


Ghost Towns

by frankiesin



Series: Ghost Towns [7]
Category: Bandom, Green Day, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: (kind of), Alternate Universe - 1990s, Demonic Possession, Demons, If You've Read Unholyverse or Desecrated Kids You'll Like This, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Multi, Polyamory, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Southern Gothic, Supernatural Elements, Trans Character, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2018-11-21 05:57:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11351298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankiesin/pseuds/frankiesin
Summary: When a lonely middle aged woman raises the demon of lust, shit hits the fan. Somehow, Spencer, Ryan, and their four new friends have to save the world.Who thought this was a good idea?(AKA the polyam fic to end all polyam fics. Plus Unholyverse vibes with the Panic squad)





	1. Part one: Spencer

**Author's Note:**

> I was originally going to have this as all one big fic, but ADHD and the Need For Validation won over. So it's going to be in (probably) four parts. 
> 
> Like I said in the tags, if you liked Unholyverse and/or Desecrated Kids, you'll like this. There's religion, witchcraft, demons, polyamory, sexuality crises... what more could you ask for from a fic? It's basically the lovechild of Supernatural, UHV, and the X-Files, but gayer.

**_Part one: Joplin, Missouri._ **

**_June 16, 1994._ **

**_(Spencer)_ **

 

The neighbourhood was nice. The houses were evenly spaced, all single floor and all with at least one garage. Ryan and Spencer were sitting in the truck, watching the house two doors down and across the street. It looked empty, and there weren’t any cars in sight, but something felt off. Spencer had learned to trust his instincts about things, over the past years. If a house felt bad, it probably was bad. 

 

“We don’t have to go in,” Ryan said. “We can just knock, pull the God shit, and go next door.”

 

“Or we can just skip it,” Spencer said, messing with his tie. He didn’t like this house. He felt like he was being pulled toward it, for some reason, but it also made him want to run away as fast as he could. It was bad. “It’s just one house, Ry. It’s not the end of the world.”

 

“Now you’re just being paranoid,” Ryan said, and opened the door. Spencer swore under his breath, grabbed the Bible and the pamphlets they’d made at a copy shop in some town in Alabama, and followed her up towards the house. 

 

It was mid afternoon, and Spencer could feel the humidity on his shirt as he and Ryan walked up the driveway. It felt like summer, but also like a storm was coming in. Spencer shook his head. He was being paranoid. They were in a town in southern Missouri, in perfect suburbia, and nothing was going to happen. This wasn’t Atlanta, where people were shot and kidnapped and turned into sex slaves on a daily basis, and it wasn’t Columbia either. He and Ryan were fine. 

 

Ryan knocked on the door, her knuckles sharp against the wood. There was a dog barking from someone’s backyard, and the sound of children laughing and screaming at each other. It was the sensation of a childhood that Spencer and Ryan had never been afforded.

 

Ryan leaned over, looking in the window. “The lights are on. That’s weird.”

 

“Maybe they forgot to turn them off?” Spencer asked. 

 

Ryan jumped back from the window, looking a little guilty, and subtly nudged Spencer to get into position. The door creaked open, revealing a middle-aged woman dressed in overalls and a bandana. She looked like she’d been caught in the middle of something, but she smiled warmly up at Spencer and Ryan. “Why hello! I didn’t realise how many young Christian men were coming through this here city today, or I would have made better refreshments! Come on in, we can have a nice little chat.”

 

“There’ve been others?” Ryan asked, sparing a glance over her shoulder at Spencer. If Ryan and Spencer weren’t the only pair wandering around and talking about Jesus, then they were more likely to get caught as frauds. Spencer crossed his fingers and hoped that he still remembered everything his parents had forced down his throat about God and Jesus and sin and shit. 

 

The woman offered her couch, and Ryan and Spencer took it, sitting down in the middle. Spencer swallowed. “Ma’am, we usually don’t come inside to talk about the Lord.”

 

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” she said, waving him off. “What’s a little hospitality going to hurt two fine gentlemen like yourselves? Would either of you like something to drink?”

 

Spencer wanted to say no, but he knew that wasn’t an option. Even Ryan, who most people considered rude and snappy, knew better that to turn down hospitality. It was something about being in the south, and knowing that every sweet, kind word from an older lady’s lips was a double-edged sword. There was no such thing as no in the south. If someone offered you something, you took it with a smile. 

 

“Of course,” Ryan said. “We’d love to, thank you.”

 

“I’ll be right back, then,” she said, smiling down at the two of them. “Make yourselves at home.”

 

Spencer watched her leave the living room and disappear around the corner to the kitchen. He took a deep breath and turned to Ryan, whispering, “this still doesn’t feel right. She’s too nice, and no one’s stupid enough to invite strangers into their house without a backup plan.”

 

“I know,” Ryan whispered back, her eyes trained on the doorway to the kitchen. “But do we just leave? What do we do?”

 

“You head towards the door, I’ll make sure she doesn’t come back,” Spencer said. Ryan glared at him, because she hated when Spencer tried to protect Ryan from everything, but Spencer didn’t waver. If this lady was some kind of malevolent bitch who preyed on unsuspecting Jesus lovers, Spencer wasn’t going to let Ryan get hurt. She’d been through enough already as it was. 

 

“Go,” Spencer whispered, and pressed his hand against Ryan’s lower back until she stood up. She glared down at him again, not moving toward the door, and so Spencer nudged her again. “Seriously, I’ll be fine. Go get the car started, I’ll be right behind you.”

 

“You’re ridiculous,” Ryan hissed, and started towards the door. Spencer got up as well, quietly striding across the room and towards the door that led into the kitchen. The living room was carpeted, thankfully, so Spencer’s shoes didn’t make much noise as he walked. He considered grabbing the vase that was sitting on the side table, but decided against it. If the lady was just a suspiciously strange woman and not a serial killer, Spencer didn’t want to freak her out. 

 

Spencer wasn’t a bad person. Sure, he was a little morally corrupt, but most people were in this day and age. He had his own morals, and if they didn’t match up with the rest of the world’s, well, that was their problem. But he wasn’t going to go around beating up middle aged women for no reason. That was just ridiculous. 

 

He turned to look over his shoulder and check that Ryan was heading for the front door, and that was when everything went to shit. Really, Spencer should have suspected it, but when he felt the needle piercing into his neck, followed by a towel over his face, all he could think was a very loud, very pronounced,  _ OH FUCK _ . He could still see Ryan, and he could see her eyes grow comically large before he started falling towards the floor. 

 

Spencer wasn’t passed out, but his vision was swimming and every movement made him feel like he was about to hurl. His arms shook when he tried to sit up, and he didn’t dare to open his mouth. Everything felt like he was dying, and definitely like he’d been drugged. 

 

He could see Ryan lunging for something, because Ryan had long ago lost her fear of being attacked. She’d replaced it with raw anger, and the instinct to grab a heavy, sharp object and start swinging. Spencer was pretty sure it was a flower vase, but he couldn’t tell. Ryan only got two hits in before the lady got her too. Spencer’s vision blurred a final time, and the last thing he saw before blacking out was Ryan, sprawled on the floor and reaching up to stab the lady in the leg with a shard of glass. 

 

Ryan Ross, that mother fucker. She never knew when to give up. Spencer loved her for that. 

 

When he woke up, he was vertical again and his head was pounding. It was dark, and smelled like the Ross’s trailer when Spencer had helped Ryan clean up her dad’s body. Spencer scrunched up his nose, trying to acclimate to the darkness and the stench of stale blood and flesh. Then his hearing came back, and he could hear someone moaning in pitiful agony, coupled with another person sobbing and Ryan telling both of them to “shut the fuck up, we’re all stuck here together.” Spencer blinked rapidly, hoping to get a better view of the room he was in, but it was still dark. 

 

The room was lit by a circle of flickering candles, which surrounded a man who was hung up on a cross like the statues of Jesus Spencer had seen growing up. Spencer grimaced, taking in the cuts and slashes on the man’s body, which were casting deep, dark red shadows onto the rest of him. His body was stained with blood, and the his shirt and tie were both tattered from being whipped repeatedly. He was still alive, though, his chest rising and falling, his breath shuddering as he occasionally moaned something that could have been in English. 

 

The other man was on the wall opposite of Spencer, tied up next to Ryan. He, Ryan, and Spencer all had their hands tied above their heads and their ankles and waists bound as well. Whoever’d done this, probably the woman, knew how to tie a rope. The other man looked to be about his and Ryan’s age, with dark hair that flopped into his face. His face was stained with tears, and he was dressed like one of the Jesus fuckers that Ryan and Spencer were pretending to be.

 

Ryan, tied up next to him, looked livid. If Spencer squinted, he could see that her hands were bleeding from where the glass had gotten into them, and they were clenched so tightly that blood was seeping through from in between her fingers. Her tie had come half undone, and her shirt was untucked. Spencer wondered how much of a struggle she’d put up before she’d passed out. He wondered if she’d even passed out, or if she was still fighting it. 

 

“Ry, you okay?” Spencer said. His throat was dry, and he didn’t want to speak too loudly in case the woman was nearby. 

 

“I’m tied to a fucking wall and trying not to pass the fuck out, what do you think?” She spat. She was angry, more than she needed to be in the situation, which meant she was scared. Spencer wished he was on the other side of the room with her, even though he knew that wouldn’t solve anything. Really, what he needed was a way to get out of the wrist restraints. He’d be fine after that.

 

“Is there anything we can use to get untied?” Spencer asked. 

 

The man beside Spencer shook his head, still crying. Spencer didn’t realise one person could have that many tears inside them. The man sniffled. “Already tried that. We’re fucked. She’s gonna keep hurting Dallon until he dies, and it’s so stupid… it’s so stupid.”

 

“What’s so stupid?” Spencer asked, because Ryan was rolling her eyes and looking like she was about to snap at the guy. “Why’s she keeping us here?”

 

“She wants to raise something,” the guy said. A shiver went down Spencer’s spine, and he saw Ryan shiver as well. Whatever was going down here wasn’t just a woman having her midlife crisis and murdering travelling Christians. It was someone who knew how to mess with shit that shouldn’t be messed with. 

 

“What kind of thing?” Ryan asked. “Dead husband?”

 

“She said… she said it was--”

 

“Asmodeus,” the woman said from the doorway. She was wielding a knife in one hand, and a candle in her other. There was a charming smile on her face, but it only made Spencer angry. She walked in, crossing over to the man on the cross--Dallon, apparently--and shining her candle under his chin. “I’ve been looking for a nice young man, someone who’s fit and will look good on my arm, but all men so far have been absolutely disgusting. So, I’ve taken manners into my own hands. I’ll be using one of you boys as my arm candy, but only your body. I don’t want your mind. I have my own, and it works just fine. Asmodeus will be working for me, entrapped in the body of a beautiful young man just on the brink of adulthood.”

 

“That’s the creepiest fucking thing I’ve heard,” Ryan said. “And my dad used to fuck whores.”

 

The woman turned towards Ryan, and Spencer instinctively jerked forward to get between them, only to be held back by the ropes. She shook her head at Ryan. “Watch your mouth, my dear. What would the Lord have to say about such foul language?”

 

“The Lord can suck my dick,” Ryan spat. 

 

“Such a shame, you’re such a pretty thing, too,” she said, leaving Dallon alone to go over to Ryan. She still had the knife in her hand. Spencer shook, pulling hard enough against the ropes that he felt his skin breaking. He didn’t care. That bitch was going after Ryan, and no one hurt Ryan. Ryan didn’t deserve to die, not like this. 

 

“Leave her alone!” Spencer screamed as the lady raised the knife up into the air. She turned around, looking at Spencer with confusion etched into her face. The room was silent. Dallon and his friend had shut up so that Spencer could hear the sound of his own heart beating rapidly against his ribcage. His mouth was dry, and his wrists stung from where they’d been rubbing against the rope. Spencer took a shuddering breath and raised himself up. He narrowed his eyes, hoping the shadows made him terrifying, not terrified. “You heard me. Leave her alone. You wanna fuck someone up? I’m right here. I’m worse, too, because I left the Goddamn church.”

 

“I don’t want either of you,” she said. “You’ve shown that your blood is tainted with sin. You’ve brought me back down to two remaining options, but I think I’ll continue with this young man. He’s taller, and I’ve always liked my men tall.”

 

“You’re disgusting,” Ryan said. 

 

“You think yourself a woman,” she said, and Spencer lunged against the ropes again because that  _ wasn’t fucking okay _ . She turned her head toward Spencer, giving him the same look his mother used to give whenever he reminded her that he was queer. “And you’ve been enabling his fantasy. Don’t talk, I’ll deal with you two sinners once I’m done here with my boy.”

 

The other man, whose name Spencer still didn’t know, cried out in anguish as the woman cut into Dallon’s flesh. She was speaking as she pooled his blood together in a chalice that she’d picked up from the floor. There was a lot of blood. Spencer wasn’t sure that Dallon was going to survive whatever the woman was doing. 

 

“Asmodeus, my lover, rise and become one with this man’s flesh,” she said, her head thrown back towards the ceiling. “Consume him as I shall be consumed with your everlasting lust. Rise, rise! Rise!”

 

The ground shook, vibrating under Spencer’s feet and behind his back. He heard the wall cracking, and then there was a sharp snap as the board he was tied to broke. Spencer fell forward, his wrists still bound to each other, and reached around to start untying his waist and his ankles. He couldn’t save Dallon, because that dude was toast, but he could try and save Ryan and the other guy. He had to. He didn’t want to see what this woman would do with her spare bodies.

 

A scream filled the room, and Spencer froze, halfway to Ryan. Dallon was writhing against his restraints, and there was blood pouring from his mouth. It didn’t seem to be his blood, though, which just made the whole situation worse. Spencer didn’t think about who else’s blood could be coming out of Dallon’s mouth. Instead, he started moving back towards Ryan, grabbing the woman’s knife from where she’d dropped it in her excitement. He still had his own wrists bound, but it wasn’t important. Spencer could untie everyone like this. He’d just have to be careful not to slice his finger off.

He came up to Ryan and put his finger over her lips before reaching up and slicing through the ropes around her wrists. Ryan took the knife from Spencer and cut through his rope before handing it back so that he could go untie the other guy. 

 

“Oh, baby, I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a deep gravelly voice said from behind Spencer. He turned around slowly, wielding the knife and putting himself between the man and… and Dallon. Dallon, whose eyes were glowing a deep red and whose veins were glowing. He wasn’t human. He had one hand wrapped around the woman’s neck, and as Spencer watched, he squeezed until her head popped off and blood spurted everywhere. 

 

Spencer flinched back, seeing a bloodstained trailer and the headless body of a thirteen year old boy.  _ ItsnotTrevoritsnotTrevoritsnotTrevor _ . A wave of nausea rolled over him, and phantom shocks ran up his arm. Spencer clenched the knife tighter. “What are you?”

 

“A demon, sweetheart, and a handsome one too,” not Dalon said, smiling. His mouth was glowing too, like he’d swallowed a red flashlight. He cracked his neck, jerking his head around so that he was staring down at the decapitated body on the ground. “What a sad, sad story. Little Jesus loving Helen couldn’t get a boy’s attention. She grew up sad and alone, dreaming of a beautiful Christian man. And when God never answered her prayers, because He never does, she turned to the dark side. I don’t know why an ugly rat like her thought a creature like me would ever bend to her will, but then again, humans have never made sense to me.”

 

“Yeah, because you’re an evil piece of shit,” Ryan snapped from behind Spencer. It was times like these that Spencer wished Ryan knew when to shut the fuck up. It had never ended well when they were kids and Ryan talked back to the assholes at school, and it wasn’t going to end well now when she was trying to sass a fucking demon. 

 

“Oh, no, Miss Wrath, there’s no need to be so accusatory,” Dallon sneered. “You and I are both equal when it comes to the weight of our sins. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some chaos and sluttery to stir--”

 

The door to the room was kicked down, and a blonde girl streaked across the room, leaping onto Dallon’s back and twirling him around so that they both hit the ground. The woman was on top. One hand was curled tightly into Dallon’s short hair, and the other was raised in a fist above his head. 

 

Behind her, there was a scruffy looking man with a strange looking blade and a small bottle of water. He was talking in a foreign language, and he poured the bottle of water over Dallon’s head. Dallon screamed, hissing and thrashing around under the girl as steam came up from his face. The guy was still yelling at him in a foreign language, and the girl was still digging her knee into Dallon’s back to keep him down on the ground. 

 

Dallon let out a wail that sounded like it came from the depths of hell. Spencer reached back and took Ryan’s hand in his. The scream continued, getting louder and louder until it was suffocating. Spencer couldn’t see, because everything was red and smoky, and he couldn’t hear or feel anything except Ryan’s hand squeezing down on his. 

 

And then, as soon as it had started, it ended, and the room was cast into silence. The girl let go of Dallon and gently turned him over onto his back. She pressed two fingers to his neck. “He’s breathing, but he needs to go to a hospital.”

 

“Shit, how bad is it?” the guy said. He knelt down next to the girl, looking Dallon over. He put the strange looking blade back in his jacket. “Okay, shit, that is bad. I’ll take him upstairs?”

 

“Good plan,” she said. “I’ll make sure the others aren’t about to die on us too.”

 

She helped her partner pick Dallon up, and then he headed towards the door. The girl stood up, wiping her hand across her forehead and leaving behind a streak of blood. She stepped back and turned on the lights, and Spencer squinted at the sudden change in light. She walked over to Spencer and Ryan, casually, like she hadn’t just taken down a possessed man who had about half a foot on her. 

 

“Who the hell are you?” the other guy said. His voice was strained, and when Spencer looked at him, he saw that the man was holding back tears. “What’re you doing with Dallon?”

 

“Right now? Making sure he doesn’t die before we can clean shit up and take him to a hospital,” she said. She same up and stood in front of Spencer, staring him down. “Earlier, though? We were saving your asses. Sorry we took so long, though, Jon’s got a thing against breaking and entering for whatever reason.”

 

“Well, it is illegal,” Ryan said. 

 

She slid her gaze over to Ryan. “So’s identity theft, but I wasn’t going to call y’all on it.”

 

“We’re not stealing anyone’s identity,” Spencer argued. 

 

“That’s not a church regulated haircut,” she said, reaching up and flicking Spencer’s bangs away from his face. “I’m a preacher’s daughter. I know shit.”

 

Ryan rolled her eyes. She reached down and untied the other guy’s ankles, and then let him loop an arm around her shoulders. Ryan nodded her head at the girl. “Let’s get out of here. This basement is creepy.”

 

“Right,” she said. “Can I get your names, by the way? I’m Linda, my partner’s Jon, we’ve been working together for the past two years and usually we get to the bottom of shit before there’s full on demonic possession.”

 

“Is Dallon going to be okay?” the guy said instead of introducing himself. Spencer looked him over as he and Ryan headed up the stairs. He seemed uninjured, but malnourished. Spencer wondered how long he and Dallon had been trapped down there. 

 

“He’ll be fine,” Linda said. “Jon knows all kinds of healing methods, and he hates hospitals, so he’ll do whatever it takes to avoid them.”

 

The four of them got up to the main floor. Dallon and Jon were in the living room. Dallon was laid out on the couch, still mostly covered in blood, and Jon was kneeling beside him, wiping at his bared chest with a towel. Jon looked up at them. “Hey, everyone else okay?”

 

“My wrists are a little raw, but it’s nothing,” Spencer said. “I’m Spencer, that’s Ryan, don’t know the other guy’s name.”

 

“Brendon,” he said, pulling away from Ryan and racing over to Dallon. He dropped to his knees beside the man, gently running his hand through Dallon's bangs, pushing them back from his face. Brendon's hand came up to his face, and Spencer heard him muffle a sob. “Oh my God. Oh my God.”

 

“He's going to be okay, don't worry,” Jon said gently. He reached around Brendon and smeared a greenish substance on Dallon's head. “We should do something about the decapitated body in the basement, though. Probably not a good idea to keep that down there.”

 

Ryan looked over at Spencer. He couldn't read her expression. “I'll do it.”

 

“I'm coming with you,” Linda said. “Jon, if you hear any screaming, you know what to do.”

 

Ryan rolled her eyes as she followed Linda back towards the door to the basement. “I'm not going to kill you, Jesus Christ. I'm a thief, not a fucking psychopath.”

 

“Well, I don't know anything about you yet, so it's always best to assume the worst,” Linda said. She had a point. Spencer watched the two women disappear down the stairs. He was torn. On one hand, he wanted to go down there with Ryan in case Linda was the secret murderer and she and Jon weren't just a random pair of demon hunters. On the other hand, he couldn't think about the dead woman's body without going into a cold sweat. 

 

It wasn't the gore. Spencer had seen his fair share of gore in his life. It was how she'd died; for whatever reason, it reminded him of Trevor. 

 

_ Blood, blood everywhere. It was covering the entire back of the trailer, and there were brain bits as well. Trevor's head, what was left, was a mess.  _

 

_ Ryan was pushing Spencer away, like she thought she could get him to unsee it all. It was too late, Spencer had seen everything. Even the rifle, loose in Trevor’s hand, pointed towards him. He'd done it. His dad had gotten into his head and he'd blown it off.  _

 

_ He was dead, and it was Spencer's fault. Spencer was the one stupid enough to think that he and Trevor could be young and carefree and in love. They were two boys. They were never going to get that.  _

 

“Spencer, are you okay?” Jon said. He'd lowered his voice, and he was close to Spencer without touching him. Spencer took a step back and nodded, even though he could taste bile in the back of his throat. Jon looked him up and down for a moment, before turning back to Dallon. He kept glancing over his shoulder at Spencer, though, which made Spencer uneasy.

 

Spencer knew he had issues. There were thin, bumpy scars up and down his arms to prove it, and there was a six month gap in his existence in case the scars weren’t enough. He never thought he’d be the type to go crazy and have flashbacks, though. Trevor had been dead for years. There was no reason for Spencer to be losing it now, when he was nearly twenty and he hadn’t seen Jamestown in two years. 

 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Spencer offered. “I promise I’m not entirely useless.”

 

Jon pulled  looked like a sewing kit out of his jacket, and popped the top open. He rested it on Dallon’s thigh. “If you could get a fresh towel, that’d be great.”

 

Spencer headed to the kitchen. He found a towel easily, but there were things scattered around on the counter that caught his attention. There was tea, sitting at room temperature, a few teacups, and a bowl with herbs and powder mixed in. Spencer leaned over it; it smelled like a spice cabinet, but Spencer got the feeling that the powder wasn’t sugar. 

 

He dumped it all in the sink and watched it swirl down the drain along with the tea, and then returned to Brendon, Dallon, and Jon. Brendon was still hovering beside Dallon like a worried girlfriend. Spencer rolled his eyes; if the two of them were gay, they were doing a shit job at hiding it. He handed Jon the towel and stepped back so that he wasn’t in the way.

 

“Thanks,” Jon said, and dipped it into the reddish water. “There’s a lot of blood, but most of the injuries aren’t too deep. I think she was bleeding him out for the ritual,” Jon looked up at Brendon, “this is a weird question, but has your friend ever donated blood for anything?”

 

Brendon shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

 

“And I’m guessing he’s never been involved with any kind of witchcraft or cult sacrifice?” Jon asked. Brendon shook his head, his eyebrows furrowed with worry and concern. Jon nodded, and turned over his shoulder to look at Spencer. “Mind helping me get him out of his shirt?”

 

“Sure,” Spencer said, because it wasn’t as though today could get any stranger. He knelt down beside Brendon, and started to move his hands under Dallon’s torso to lift him off of the couch. Then, the lights exploded. Startled, Spencer dropped Dallon back onto the couch and pulled Brendon down onto the floor. He had a similar frame to Ryan. It was an easy mistake to make. 

 

“What was that?” Brendon asked, staying under Spencer. 

 

“Shit,” Jon hissed under his breath, and started to rise. His hand moved towards the knife on his hip, and a picture flew across the room, striking Jon in the face. Spencer pushed Brendon down further, fighting the urge to race down to the basement, grab Ryan, and get the fuck out. 

 

The room was lit up with a hazy red light. Spencer stayed down, holding his hand down on Brendon’s back and watching the room carefully. Jon let out a strangled noise and kicked out, almost hitting Spencer in the face. Spencer looked up, his eyes growing wide as he saw what was holding Jon back by his neck. The thing had Jon’s blade in it’s hand, and there was a sharp, jagged cut curled into a snarl where it’s mouth was supposed to be.

 

“You took my vessel, Jonathan,” the thing said, it’s voice rumbling through the floor under Spencer’s feet, vibrating and crackling through the air. The air was thick and hot, like sitting in a car with no AC in the middle of July. The thing--the demon--cracked it’s neck, sparks and flames flickering away from the space. It had no exact form, but it was trying to look like Dallon. A more sexual version of Dallon, for whatever reason. “I don’t appreciate that.”

 

“Get the fuck off me,” Jon said, rolling his eyes up so that he could look at the demon. “Don’t you have chaos to create or whatever?”

 

“Oh, I do, but I wanted to check in on my favourite little sinner,” it said. Under the crackling and heat of hell, it had a bedroom voice. Brendon shivered under Spencer’s touch, and Spencer tightened his grip on the man’s shirt. He didn’t know Brendon, but he wasn’t going to throw him at a literal demon. The demon laughed. “Oh, Brenny, you sweet, sweet little boy. I’m going to enjoy making you my bitch, when the time comes. I’ll see you in the capital of lust, my darling. Don’t be late.”

 

It snapped it’s fingers, and faded away, leaving the blade to clatter to the floor. Jon sunk down, letting out a deep breath, and pushed his hair out of his face. “Right, we’re getting the fuck out of here. Spencer, there’s a truck parked a few houses down that doesn’t look too hard to break into--”

 

“It’s Ryan’s,” Spencer said, cutting him off. “She and I can get out of your way, and you can go do whatever you need to do.”

 

“Are you sure? Linda and I know people, we can--”

 

“We’ll come with you,” Ryan said. She and Linda had come up from the basement, their hands and shirts coated with dirt and blood. Ryan was looking at Spencer when she spoke, and she nodded at him. They could trust these people. Linda had earned Ryan’s trust down in that basement, somehow. Spencer nodded back, and Ryan turned her gaze onto Jon. “I’ll drive my truck. It holds three people, and there’s room in the back if you need to move any of your shit around to fit the rest of us.”

 

“Do you know where you’re going?” Jon asked. 

 

“No, but I’m riding with her,” Linda said. “And I know where Adrienne’s shop is, so we’re good. Do you want us to take one of the Mormons?”

 

“Take Brendon,” Jon said. He looked at the man in question. “It’s a trust thing. If we’re all split up, there’s less of a chance that someone’ll flake out on the rest of us. And I’ve been taking care of Dallon so far, so… do you think you can trust me and Spencer from here until New Orleans?”

 

“That’s… that’s really far,” Brendon said. He looked over at Dallon, who was still passed out with his eyelashes splayed out across his cheeks, looking peaceful. Jon had gotten all of the blood off of him, and sewn up his deeper wounds, putting bandages on the rest. He looked like he’d barely made it out alive, and his face was gaunt from lack of nutrients. Brendon didn’t look much better. He took a deep, shuddering breath. “Do we have to go there? Isn’t there anything closer?”

 

“Not really,” Jon said, offering Brendon a sympathetic smile that he didn’t see because he was too focused on Dallon. “Adrienne’s the best healer I know, and her husband knows everything about demons and shit. If we’re gonna stop this fucker, we need to go to New Orleans.”

 

“Didn’t it say something about the capital of lust, though?” Spencer said. “What if that’s New Orleans?”

 

Jon shrugged. “Two birds, one stone.”

 

That wasn’t what Spencer meant, but he wasn’t the one with demon hunting experience. Brendon agreed to the driving arrangements, and backed away from Dallon long enough that Spencer and Jon could pick him up and carry him out to where Jon and Linda’s vehicle was parked. It was right behind Ryan’s truck, and Linda walked ahead of them to open up the doors. 

 

The car was a faded blue station wagon, with tinted windows and no license plate. Spencer walked around to the other side of it once he and Jon had secured Dallon in the back seat, looking for anything that would make it identifiable. There was nothing, other than the colour. There wasn’t even a brand decal. 

 

“Are you going to be okay without me?” Ryan said, standing next to Spencer. Her arm was brushing against his, and Spencer knew it was on purpose. “I have a gun in the glovebox, if you want it.”

 

“I don’t like guns,” Spencer said. He took his hand out of his pocket and held onto hers, because it was the closest they could get in public. He squeezed Ryan’s hand. “I’ll be fine, okay? Don’t worry about me; I’m not the one getting into a car with a weeping widow and a girl who took out a demon like it was nothing.”

 

Ryan grinned, one side of her mouth curling up. She was impressed by Linda, not intimidated. “That was pretty cool, actually. And I can handle myself, since you keep forgetting.”

 

Spencer rolled his eyes. “Yeah, barely.”

 

Ryan elbowed him. “Your driver’s getting suspicious. Have fun on your road trip.”

 

“You too,” Spencer said, and let go of her hand. Ryan walked over to the truck, unlocking the doors and letting Linda and Brendon get in. Spencer watched them as he walked back around to the car. Jon was sitting in the front seat with a map spread out, and Dallon was still in the back of the car. Dallon’s head was pressed against the window, and if Spencer didn’t know better, it would look like the man was just sleeping. He leaned against the car door. “How long do you think he’s going to be out for? Should we be worried?”

 

“He has a pulse, so no,” Jon said. “But I honestly don’t know how long he’ll be out. I don’t know how long he and Brendon were down there before we found them, and I don’t know how long that bitch was bleeding him out. I just hope he doesn’t freak out on us whenever he  _ does _ wake up.”

 

“Yeah, that’d be bad,” Spencer said, and slid into the front seat. He slammed the door shut, and an empty bottle of root beer rattled by his feet. This was a car that had been lived in for a while. Spencer kept his mouth shut and his eyes on Dallon as Jon drove them out of Joplin. Spencer didn’t bother watching it all go by. He wouldn’t miss it. He hadn’t missed a town in his life, because there was never anything to miss. Spencer’s only connection to a sense of home was Ryan, and she was going to New Orleans, too. 

 

“So, where’e you and Ryan from?” Jon asked. For someone who looked rough and haggard, he was a strangely warm guy. Spencer worried that he had some kind of hidden agenda. 

 

“South Carolina,” Spencer said. He flipped open the glove compartment. There was a small skull in there, possibly from a squirrel, as well as two pocket sized  _ Archie _ comic books. Spencer was both worried an confused. “Why is there a skull in the glove box?”

 

“Protection,” Jon said. “Haunted cars suck, dude.”

 

“I’m aware,” Spencer said, thinking about the time Ryan’s dead father had decided to haunt the truck. The truck was still cold to the touch, but it wasn’t haunted any more. The coldness was a good thing, now, when it was getting to the hottest part of summer and Spencer and Ryan were still driving around in the south a lot. It was cheaper than air conditioning, and Spencer never had to worry about burning his hand on the seat belt buckle whenever he got back into the truck after leaving it in the sun for hours. 

 

“You’re obviously not a professional, I would have run into you two by now,” Jon said. He turned up the volume on the radio a little, as it fizzled between static and music. “Do you deal with haunted vehicles often, or was that just a one time issue?”

 

“It was just once,” Spencer said. 

 

“That’s good,” Jon said. “I don’t deal with a lot of haunted shit, more possessions, curses, the occasional werewolf… haunted shit is cool though. Not, like,  _ cool _ , but it’s interesting. Ghosts like talking more than demons, usually. The answer’s probably no, but have you ever seen a demon? Before today, obviously.”

 

Spencer rolled his eyes. “You ask a lot of questions.”

 

“It’s part of my job,” Jon said, shrugging. He wasn’t a bad looking guy, now that Spencer was able to watch him without fearing for his or Ryan’s lives. He’d look better if his hair and beard were trimmed, but Spencer knew what it was like to live on the road, and he had no place to talk about overgrown hair. His own hair was starting to get to his shoulders. Jon dragged his hand through his hair, shaking it out so that the curls poofed up around his ears. “It’s hard to figure this shit out if you’ve only got books. Linda and I ask a lot of questions, to both the witnesses and the locals. Most people are pretty open to talk. It’s weird.”

 

“You’re not from the south, are you?” Spencer said. He figured that if Jon was going to talk, he might as well contribute occasionally. “Everyone has a piece of gossip they’re willing to spill down here.”

 

“I’m from Chicago, originally, but I was in New Orleans for a few years,” Jon said. “Adrienne and Billie were like my second set of parents, and I was the one babysitter they didn’t have to explain the voodoo shit to. I was part of the voodoo shit.”

 

“You know voodoo?” Spencer asked. Just how much occult shit did this guy know about?

 

Jon shook his head. “Not really. I don’t practice it, but Adrienne and her family do, and she’s pretty much an expert on all things curse-y. And Billie’s one of the original ghost hunters, so everyone looks up to him. He’s not an ass about it, though. None of them are. This isn’t a job for people with an ego.”

 

“I can imagine,” Spencer said. If he was a ghost hunter, he wouldn’t run around bragging about it to people, either. It didn’t sound like a pretty job. It sounded like the kind of thing that got people dragged off to psychiatric hospitals, and Spencer never wanted to go into a psych hospital ever again. Columbia was enough of that, even if it had been a fraud and it wasn’t about fixing his mental issues.

 

“So, what part of South Carolina are you two from?” Jon asked. It hadn’t even been a minute of silence between the two of them. “Because, no offense, but you two both have some serious accents going on. Linda’s from outside of Houston, so you can imagine what she sounded like when we first started working together. You and Ryan have a different drawl, though. So, what part?”

 

“Middle of nowhere,” Spencer said. He didn’t want to mention his hometown by name. It left a bad taste in his mouth. “You wouldn’t know where it is.”

 

“What is it near?” Jon asked. “Everything’s near something, even in the middle of nowhere.”

 

Spencer rolled his eyes. “You haven’t been to South Carolina, then.”

 

“I’ve been pretty much everywhere in the main forty-eight,” Jon said. He tapped his thumbs against the steering wheel and swerved across two lanes to get off of the highway. “I saw a sign for coffee. Coffee’s good. Do you drink coffee?”

 

“Sometimes,” Spencer said. “Do you think it’ll wake him up?”

 

Jon shrugged. “No idea, but it’s worth trying. Also, I need some more tea bags, for readings. Not my reading, because I can’t read tea leaves for shit, but there’re people in New Orleans who know how to. Also, you didn’t answer my question. Where in the middle of nowhere are you from? Near Charleston? Greenville? On the beach?”

 

“About midway between Georgetown and Charleston, I guess,” Spencer said. 

 

“So by the sea?”

 

“Nah, it’s pretty far inland,” Spencer said, shaking his head. “Ryan and I would go down to Charleston occasionally, though. Just to have something to do, since our town wasn’t much more than a wide spot in the road.”

 

“Charleston’s pretty interesting,” Jon said. “If you’re ever there, don’t go into the market street stores at night. That’s when shit gets messy. There’s good food, though, and it’s way less haunted than Savannah, so it’s probably the better option.”

 

“Is New Orleans haunted, then?” Spencer asked. He knew about some of the tragedies that had happened in southern coastal cities, and how so many of the streets were paved on top of unmarked graves, but he’d never felt uneasy in Charleston. Charleston smelled like shit, but it felt like it could have been Spencer's home, in a different universe. It felt familiar. 

 

“Obviously,” Jon said. “It's witch central, and there are a  _ lot _ of old feuds that death couldn't kill. I get shivers just from walking down certain streets. It’s like Romeo and Juliet, minus the romance, and with a lot more death.”

 

“Sounds horrible,” Spencer said. He thought about Ryan, still driving her dad’s truck because she couldn’t part with it. It was the only scrap of home she had left, and Spencer wasn’t going to be the one to take that from her. The backseat was still covered in duct tape. They didn’t talk about the backseat. “Nothing interesting happened in the town Ryan and I grew up in. It was boring, we were bored, and so we left. There’s not an interesting story there.”

 

“That sucks. I like hearing people’s life stories,” Jon said. He had a warm smile, soft against the glaring June sun. “It makes them interesting, knowing where someone came from, what made them into the person they are today.”

 

“Huh,” Spencer said. He knew exactly what had made him and Ryan the way they were. Ryan had a father who preferred alcohol to parenting, and Spencer’s parents had tried to electrocute the gay out of him. It was a simple explanation, but it wasn’t the thing to talk about at dinner parties. Or with a guy Spencer had just met, and who he didn’t know jack shit about. 

 

Jon pulled up in front of a coffee shop. Spencer wasn’t sure where they were, or if they were out of Missouri yet. He hoped Ryan was doing okay. It was weird, being in a car without her. That truck had been Spencer’s home for the past two years as much as it had been Ryan’s. They’d spent a lot of time in that truck. They’d had sex on the backseat, just to spite whatever remained of Ryan’s dad.

 

Jon looped his arm over the back of Spencer’s seat and turned around to look at Dallon, who was still slumped against the window. He wasn’t as pale anymore, so that was good. “Should we try to wake him up, or do you think he’ll be okay in the car?”

 

“Wake him up,” Spencer said. “It gets hot down here.”

 

“We’re not even in the deep south yet,” Jon said. He twisted around to shake Dallon’s shoulder anyway. Spencer sat there, awkwardly in the front seat, not sure what he was supposed to be doing. There were a few people walking in and out of the coffee shop, and Spencer made sure not to look any of them in the eye. He didn’t want to draw attention to what was going on in the car. Hopefully, it would just look like three guys on a roadtrip, where one of them had fallen asleep in the back of the car. 

 

Finally, Dallon stirred. The first thing he did was slap Jon’s hand away, and then he winced from the movement, holding a hand to his chest. His eyes were a clear blue-grey, highlighted by the tired red rimming his irises. Dallon’s gaze flicked from Jon to Spencer and back again. “What did you do with Brendon?”

 

“He’s in the other car,” Jon said, at the same time that Spencer said, “he’s fine.”

 

Dallon scooted back against the car door. “Who the hell are you guys?”

 

“I’m Jon Walker, I’m in the paranormal control business, this is my new friend Spencer, I have no idea what he does because he doesn’t like talking about himself,” Jon said. “Brendon’s with my partner, Linda, and Spencer’s friend Ryan. They’re in the other car, and we’re driving to New Orleans.”

 

“Why?” Dallon asked. At least he was having a rational line of thought.

 

“The woman who kidnapped us summoned a demon and apparently it wants to turn the whole world into sin,” Spencer said. “So we’re going to New Orleans because apparently Jon knows people.”

 

“I do know people. There’s no  _ apparently _ about it.”

 

“This isn’t New Orleans, though,” Dallon said. “This is a coffee shop.”

 

“Very observant,” Jon said, grinning. Spencer couldn’t tell if he was laughing at Dallon, or with him. “We’re getting coffee because it’s going to be a long ride, and I figured you’d want something to perk up with after getting bled out for who knows how long.”

 

“I don’t drink coffee,” Dallon said. “It’s against my religion.”

 

Spencer held himself back from rolling his eyes. It was a serious accomplishment. He was pretty sure that God, if God was real, didn’t give a shit what someone put in their body. Coffee wasn’t going to send anyone to hell, no more than being a guy who liked other guys. It wasn’t important. It didn’t fucking matter.

 

Jon looked over his shoulder at the coffee shop. “They might have pastries?”

 

“Sounds good,” Dallon said. “I can’t remember the last time I ate. Brendon and I were down there for a while.”

 

“Jesus Christ,” Spencer said, and ignored how Dallon looked at him funny. Spencer got that a lot. He sounded like a sweet southern Christian boy, but he was not. Spencer raised an eyebrow. “Sorry. Forgot there’re people who still follow the Ten Commandments.”

 

Jon pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “This is going to be a fun trip.”

 

Spencer cringed. He’d spent so much time being bitter and surrounded by self-righteous Christians that he forgot there were other kinds of people. He didn’t want to become Jon and Dallon’s new best friends or some shit, but he didn’t want them to think he was an asshole. He slouched down in his seat a little. “I don’t… never mind. Pretend I didn’t say anything.”

 

“It’s okay,” Dallon said. He was smiling at Spencer like the two of them were sharing a secret. “I’ve been breaking rules already. Might as well get some coffee while I’m at it. It’s not going to hurt anyone, and I was thinking of leaving the church anyway.”

 

It didn’t seem normal, but Jon didn’t comment, and so Spencer kept his mouth shut and followed the two men into the coffee shop. It wasn’t well lit, but there were people scattered about, sitting under lamps and reading the paper or chattering to their companions. A few of them looked up at the newcomers, but nothing shifted. It was just a normal coffee shop, in a normal town. 

 

Spencer wished he could stop being paranoid about everything long enough to enjoy himself. He crossed his arms, scratching at the mostly healed scabs on the inside of his wrist. Dallon would end up with scars too, but his would be longer and uneven, randomly crossing his skin. He wouldn’t have to worry about keeping them covered in the heat of summer, because his injuries were on his chest and his stomach and no one judged a man for wearing a shirt. 

 

Dallon and Jon did most of the talking while the three of them were in line. Spencer hoped that one of them had cash on them, because his and Ryan’s savings were all in the truck. Spencer only had a hand-sized composition notebook and a pocket knife in his pockets. Coffee shops didn’t accept either of those as payment.

 

When they got up to the counter, Jon nudged Dallon and Spencer forward. “Get whatever you want. I’m paying.”

 

Spencer hadn’t been paying attention to the menu, so he just ordered a coffee with cream. He stood over to the side while Dallon and Jon ordered, and watched the other people in the shop. There was a man with wire rimmed glasses reading a newspaper who kept looking up at Spencer. Spencer tapped his foot against the floor, and looked away from the man, back over to Jon and Dallon. 

 

They didn’t look concerned. They also weren’t criminals. Spencer had seen his face in the paper on occasion, always accompanying Ryan’s, and usually with a picture of Ryan and her dad in one corner of the article. Spencer had only read the first one, two years ago in Atlanta. His parents had been quoted in it, and they’d accused Ryan of leading Spencer down a dark path. They didn’t care about their son. They wanted him thrown in jail just as much as they wanted Ryan thrown away. 

 

The man in the glasses was still watching Spencer. Spencer’s skin was tingling. He tried to stand still and not let the man notice his growing nerves. He tapped Jon on the shoulder. “Hey, shouldn’t we get back on the road?”

 

Jon raised an eyebrow. “What, are you in a rush?”

 

“Well, it’s a demon, which I didn’t believe in until today, so yeah,” Spencer said. “I am in a bit of a rush.”

 

Jon looked over his shoulder to where the man in the glasses was sitting, then back at Spencer. He nodded, and leaned up on the counter. “Hey, could I actually get that hazelnut espresso to go? My friends are nagging me to get back on the road.”

 

Dallon raised an eyebrow at Spencer. Spencer made a hand motion, silently telling Dallon that it wasn’t important, and that if he really wanted to know, he could ask once they were all back in the car. Spencer wouldn’t tell Jon or Dallon about what Ryan had done, of course, but he’d committed other crimes. He could just list off one of those. Hopefully they wouldn’t judge him too harshly for it. 

 

“So, who’s the man in the glasses?” Jon said as soon as he’d started the car up. 

 

Spencer resisted rolling his eyes. “Don’t know. He probably recognised me from a police report or something.”

 

“I’m guessing you and Ryan aren’t really Jehovah’s Witnesses, then?” Jon asked with a crooked smile. He was amused by this whole situation. Spencer wished he could be that carefree about getting spotted in a random coffee shop.

 

“You didn’t kill anyone, did you?” Dallon said from the backseat. He sounded worried. He had no reason to be worried. Ryan had only killed one person in her life, and it was out of self-defense. No one who knew her--really knew her--would blame her for it, either. 

 

Jon made a face. “Come on, like murder’s the worst thing in the world.”

 

“You’re telling me it’s not?” Spencer said. “What the fuck kind of moral system do you have?”

 

“Well, my entire family got murdered by a ghost, so the whole justice thing loses a lot of satisfaction if the fucker’s already dead,” Jon said. Spencer stared at him, but his facial expression hadn’t changed in the slightest. How shitty was Jon’s family that he didn’t get affected by them being murdered? Jon raised his coffee to his lips. “Rape, however. That’s fucked up. Consent’s fucking important, regardless of the situation.”

 

“I can’t argue with that,” Dallon said from the back. 

 

“I didn’t kill anyone,” Spencer said. “Or rape them. Ryan and I just… we do home invasions. We steal from the rich, sell it off to second hand stores, live out of hotels and her truck, blah, blah, blah. We’re the shittier version of Robin Hood.”

 

“That’s a lot better than rape, or murder,” Jon said. 

 

“No shit,” Spencer said. And then, “your entire family was murdered by a ghost?”

 

“Well, just my parents and my brother, but yeah,” Jon said. “I was fourteen. Billie and Adrienne are basically my second set of parents now, though, so it’s not as bad as it could have been. I’m not an orphan.”

 

There was a moment of awkward silence, because what the fuck do you say in response to  _ at least I’m not an orphan _ ? Jon didn’t let it last long, though. He put his coffee back down in the cup holder and looked up at Dallon through the rearview. “So, Dal, what’s your story? Since Spencer’s keeping his lips shut about him and his friend.”

 

“I’m not very interesting,” Dallon said. 

 

“So? I’m surrounded by interesting shit all day,” Jon said. “Boring, loving American families are the shit. They’re practically a fantasy world to me.”

 

“Well, I’m from Utah,” Dallon said. “North of Salt Lake, in a small town by the mountains. I’m the oldest of five, my dad’s a pastor, I went to school for music and secondary education before I was on mission. I met Brendon on mission, he’s alright, I don’t know much about him, though.”

 

“You and Linda should share preacher’s kids stories,” Jon said. “Her dad preached in Texas. She used to have the most ridiculous drawl, too. It was like something straight out of a Jesus movie.”

 

“I’ve never seen a Jesus movie.”

 

“You’re missing out,” Jon said. 

 

Spencer shook his head. “You’re really not. It’s just an angry man in a robe yelling about how everyone’s going to hell, and then there’s some generic blonde girl who has a faith crisis but then goes to some poor ass country in, like, Africa or some shit and cries a lot while finding God again.”

 

“Buzzkill,” Jon said. He looked back at Dallon again, grinning at him. “Ignore Spencer. He doesn’t understand true ironic comedy.”

 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Dallon said. He was looking at Spencer when he said it, and Spencer got the feeling that Dallon wasn’t like most religious guys. There was something off about him. Not in a bad way, where Dallon could somehow sense Spencer’s queerness and was just waiting on the right moment to strike. Dallon’s eyes were too warm for that. He was curious, and he sparked Spencer’s curiousity. He was older than both Spencer and Jon, but he seemed… innocent. Something was up. Spencer wanted to know what it was. 


	2. Part two: Spencer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so now that WSYICT has started, and I'm no longer being Extra Shady, I'm back to my usual not-having-a-schedule schedule. Which means I'm updating shit again! Yay!
> 
> Here's some gay. Because everything I do is gay.

_**Part two: New Orleans, Louisiana.** _

_**June 17, 1994.** _

_**(Spencer)** _

****

Jon, Dallon, and Spencer arrived in New Orleans around four in the morning. Spencer had slept off and on, never comfortable enough to drift off fully. He didn’t trust Jon. He barely knew the guy. 

 

“We’re here, guys, time to wake up,” Jon said. He sounded exhausted. He pulled into a spot in front of a run down building with brick siding and faded green panelling. They were just off of Bourbon street, and Spencer could hear the partiers in the background. The thudding of the bass vibrated all the way into the car.

 

There weren’t any lights on, and in the pitch blackness of New Orleans at night, the place looked rather ominous. 

 

Jon turned around to Dallon and Spencer. He spread his arms out and bowed slightly. “Welcome to my home away from home. Adrienne should be in, but if she’s not, I can get you guys settled upstairs. She and Billie won’t mind, they have muggles in here all the time.”

 

“Muggles?” Spencer asked, raising an eyebrow. 

 

“People not involved in the supernatural community,” Jon said. He turned around and waved his hand for Spencer and Dallon to follow him towards the gate. “There’re other names for you guys, but they’re not as nice. So, muggles. Also, there’s a lot of pot in there, so if you’re not stoned yet, you might be.”

 

“Why?” Dallon asked. “Wouldn’t that make concentrating harder?”

 

“Not really,” Jon said. He leaned over, messing with his keyring to open the gate. “It’s more for focusing, and it helps sooth panicking customers. The oils are great for a lot of stuff, too.”

 

The gate opened with a crunching, squeaky sound, and Spencer and Dallon entered. Jon locked it up behind them, and then lead them to the door on the side of the house. It was wood paneled, with a small slot at eye level. The slot opened, revealing a pair of hazel green eyes, and then closed again before anyone could say anything. The door opened, revealing a kid with spiky black hair. He looked to be about thirteen years old, and he was looking at Dallon and Spencer like they’d wronged him. 

 

Jon crossed over the threshold first. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

 

“Mom said it was okay,” the kid said, rolling his eyes. “It’s summer. It’s not like I have school or anything in the morning.”

 

“Go to bed,  _ Joseph _ ,” Jon said in a mocking parental voice. There was a bit of a smile on his face, though, which made Spencer think that the two of them were sharing a joke. Jon seemed to fit in here, like he was meant to live in a creepy witch house on a grungy street in New Orleans. 

 

The kid rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say,  _ Jonathan _ .”

 

The kid headed through a different door, and Jon made sure he was gone before leading Dallon and Spencer around to the back of the house. According to Jon, the kid was one of Adrienne’s sons, Joey, and he and Jon were basically brothers. Spencer felt bad that Jon had lost his whole family, but he’d found a new one so it couldn’t be that bad of a life. 

 

There was a man with curly hair slumped over a desk, next to a ringing phone. Jon leaned over and shook the guy, before answering the phone himself and rattling off some instructions that seemed to be about disposing of ghosts. He hung up the phone and patted the curly haired guy on the back. “Come on Sisky, stop falling asleep in the middle of your shift.”

 

“This is literally the second time I’ve done it,” the guy said, pushing his hair out of his face. “Go fuck yourself.”

 

“I’m good,” Jon said. “I’ll bring you coffee, though.”

 

“Unfuck yourself, then,” Sisky said, grinning. The phone started ringing again, and Sisky rolled his eyes before picking it up and answering it. Jon didn’t stick around, and so Spencer and Dallon continued following him through the house like lost ducklings. 

 

When Jon opened the door to the final room, Spencer had to step back from how strongly it smelled. It was a mixture of weed, spices, burnt wood, and insence, and they were all trying to overpower each other. In the center of the room, bent over a large chalk symbol, was a woman with long, thick black hair stacked on top of her head in a haphazard bun. Spencer wasn’t sure how she was managing to keep it all up there. 

 

Jon knocked lightly on the wall, and the woman looked up. She was older than the three of them, but she wasn’t old. She looked about the same age as Spencer’s mom. Spencer figured she was the Adrienne Jon kept talking about. 

 

Jon motioned to Spencer and Dallon. “Sorry we didn’t warn you, but Linda and I stepped in something big yesterday and we came as quick as we could. This is Dallon and Spencer, Dallon’s blood was used for dark magic, Spencer’s still in tact but he was an eye-witness. Linda has two others, and she should be here soon.”

 

“What kind of dark magic?” Adrienne asked. She stood up and wiped her hands on her pants. Her clothes were all black and loose, and they fluttered as she walked. She was exactly how Spencer had pictured witches when he was a little kid and his mom tried to convince him that Halloween was the day of the Devil. 

 

Jon rubbed the back of his neck. “Raising a demon. Asmodeus. I know it’s a big deal, and that we might be in over our heads, but I don’t want to rush in blind either way.”

 

“You did the right thing, coming back here,” Adrienne said. She patted Jon’s cheek, and it felt so much like a mother welcoming her son home that Spencer’s chest ached. He knew he would never get that moment, that his mother had cast him out before Spencer even left Jamestown, but he couldn’t dwell on that now. Demons were real, and there was one somewhere in the country, and apparently Adrienne and her people knew what to do about it. 

 

Adrienne’s focus turned to Spencer. “You were a witness?”

 

“Yes,” Spencer said. “Not for… not for the whole thing, but I was there when the demon happened. It possessed Dallon for a moment? I don’t know if that’s important?”

 

“It could be,” Adrienne said, glancing over at Dallon. Dallon looked exhausted, and like he was about to fall over. His face was pale, and there were deep purple bruises under his eyes that made him look older than he was. Adrienne frowned. “How long was he possessed for?”

 

“Not long,” Jon said. “But the woman who raised the demon had been draining his blood for a while. His friend Brendon would know exactly how long, but he’s with Linda. We split up for security reasons.”

 

“Understandable. Why don’t you take Spencer up to one of the rooms while I check up on Dallon? You all look like you’re about to pass out,” she said. She was giving Jon the same look he’d given Joey earlier. Adrienne meant it, though. She was the mother in this situation, and her suggestions were directions. 

 

Jon nodded, not even trying to argue, and put a hand on Spencer’s shoulder, turning him around. He said something about not worrying about Dallon, and how Adrienne was very trustworthy, but Spencer wasn’t paying attention to any of that. Jon’s hand was warm on his back, and Spencer was tired. He and Ryan had never committed to each other; they just were. They had an emotional connection they’d never be able to find in anyone else, because no one else had lived through the same things as them. Sometimes that emotional connection crossed over to a romantic or a sexual one, and when it did, Spencer and Ryan always had each other. 

 

They weren’t exclusive, and Jon was attractive. Spencer didn’t expect anything from it, but he wanted to pull Jon down onto the mattress with him, wrap an arm around his waist, and fall asleep with his face buried in Jon’s shoulder. It was probably the exhaustion thinking for him. Spencer hoped it was, because he didn’t want to end up with feelings for a straight man, especially one who was a witch and could probably kill Spencer without leaving any evidence behind. 

 

“It’s not great, but there’re two beds, one for you and one for Ryan,” Jon said. He flicked on the lamp, casting dull yellow shadows across the small room. There were two twin beds, a tall, narrow window, and a small desk with the lamp on it. It was still more than Spencer was used to. Jon perched himself on the edge of one of the beds. “We’ve got pajamas, if you want them. And there’s a bathroom with a shower at the end of the hall. Make sure to knock before you go in, though. I’ve been out of town for too long. I don’t know how many people are staying here at the moment.”

 

“So is this a hotel for monster hunters?” Spencer asked. He sat down on the other bend and leaned over to start untying his bootlaces. He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. He really needed to cut it, and trim his beard. 

 

“Partially,” Jon said. “It’s like a headquarters for everyone involved. Sisky, the guy we ran into downstairs, is one of the phone guys. He answers questions people might have about the shit they’re chasing, and also calls people to tell them where their next job is. Joey and Jake--Adrienne’s kids--also do the phones, and some other newbies do it to. It’s one of the safe jobs.”

 

“Is that what you did when you first started?” Spencer asked. He’d gotten his boots off, so he sat back up and stretched his legs out. He could almost touch Jon’s feet with his own. “Or did you jump right into fighting off demons?”

 

“Again, that fucker was the first demon I’ve ever run into,” Jon said. He crossed his legs at his ankles. “But yeah, I did phone stuff for about a year before I got really bad cabin fever and started going on jobs with the guys. I didn’t get to go solo until I was seventeen, and Billie regrets letting me do that because now he can’t tell Joey to wait until he’s an adult.”

 

“I was seventeen when I left South Carolina,” Spencer said. Admittedly, running away from home to help cover up a murder and getting to go hunt ghosts without help were two different things, but they were both terrifying. “It’s not that bad.”

 

“He’s still Billie and Adrienne’s first kid, though,” Jon said. “He’s special. They both are, but Jake’s not begging to go out yet. He takes after his mom more anyway. He likes doing science experiments.”

 

Jon had this fond smile on his face when he talked, and it made Spencer’s chest clench up. He’d never gotten to brag about his younger siblings. His parents tried to keep him away from them, because they were sure Spencer would corrupt them. Spencer felt like he was an orphan in his own family, and here Jon was, fitting right in with people who had once been complete strangers to him. 

 

Spencer pressed his thumbs together. “I wish I had a better relationship with my little brothers and sisters.”

 

“I mean, you might, one day,” Jon said. “Not everyone adopts the habits of their parents, and maybe after we figure all this demon shit out, you can go by your house and see if any of them want to fix shit. You’ve been away for a few years, right? Maybe they’ve changed how they think about you.”

 

“I doubt it. People like my parents don’t change their opinions on people like me,” Spencer said. He was terrified to tell Jon, but he felt like he had to. Jon had a trusting face, and a comforting feeling around him. He was calming. 

 

“Then fuck ‘em,” Jon said, shrugging. “I mean, shit, biology isn’t everything. I don’t know if my parents would be proud of me or not, but it’s whatever. I’ve got a family, and I make them proud, so hey, maybe you can just find a better family. You’ve got Ryan, right?”

 

“Ryan’s different,” Spencer said, because she was. He crossed his arms over his chest. “She and I… I don’t know what we are, but it’s not family. It’s something else. She’s my best friend.”

 

“So, are you two together, then?” Jon asked. He raised an eyebrow. “Romantically?”

 

“Sometimes,” Spencer said. “But we’re not exclusive. She can see other people, I can see other people, but we still have each other.”

 

“That sounds like the ideal, really,” Jon said. He stretched out on the bed, even though it wasn’t his. Spencer didn’t mind. It wasn’t as though he lived here anyway. He was more of a guest than Jon. “Linda and I aren’t like that, in case you were wondering. She’s awesome, but she wouldn’t put any relationship ahead of her job. And I’m not the kind of guy to settle down, anyway. Billie and Adrienne turned me into a roamer.”

 

“It fits you,” Spencer said. “You look like you could belong anywhere.”

 

Jon grinned. “I’ve been to most places already. One day I want to go to Europe, sneak into a few old churches, see who’s still dead and wandering around. Ghosts have a lot of interesting stuff to talk about, you know?”

 

“Well, it’s not like they have anything better to do than talk to some kid from the states, do they?” Spencer said. He remembered the ghost of Ryan’s father, and how terrifying that had been. Spencer didn’t know shit about dealing with ghosts, other than avoiding them, but he couldn’t imagine thinking of them as anything but a bad sign. Good people didn’t get turned into ghosts. Good people got to go onto whatever was after death, and the rest were stuck wandering around in a spiritual purgatory, apparently.

 

Jon shook his head. “Ghosts aren’t friendly. That’s why you don’t go into graveyards at night unless you’re protected. And why some streets in this town are out of bounds. Scary shit happens if you’re not prepared for it.”

 

“I can imagine,” Spencer said. He didn’t have to imagine. He knew. His parents were wrong about a lot of things, but they’d gotten the ghosts right. Some people didn’t die easily. It was best to cremate someone, so that they couldn’t keep coming back. 

 

Jon was watching Spencer. Spencer crossed his arms over his chest and stared right back. He was used to people giving him (and Ryan) strange looks. They were an odd pair, and no matter what Spencer did, he could never shake off the things that tied him back to the south. It was a part of him, and even in New Orleans, where the drawl was thick like molasses, he still didn’t fit in. He was a different type of southern. 

 

“If I’m wrong, feel free to use your voice instead of your fists. I have a witch for a mother, and you haven’t even met Billie Joe yet,” Jon said. It was clearly meant as a warning, but his voice was soft, and somehow sounded like coming home. Jon stood up from Ryan’s bed and crossed the small room to Spencer. He leaned down, slowly, giving Spencer time to react, and pressed his lips against Spencer’s. His beard scratched against Spencer’s, and Spencer reached a hand up to cradle Jon’s face. 

 

There was a patch of skin along Jon’s jaw and cheek that was smoothed over in a scar, solid under Spencer’s finger. He pressed gently against that patch of bare skin as he tilted his head to get a better angle. Jon’s mouth was warm, and his arms were solid, caging Spencer in without making him feel like he couldn’t go anywhere. Spencer reached up and grabbed the fabric of Jon’s shirt, pulling him in closer. 

 

Jon pulled back from the kiss first, pressing his forehead against Spencer’s and keeping his eyes closed. He took a deep breath. “You should… you should go to sleep, Spencer.”

 

Spencer opened his mouth to argue, because who the fuck kissed a guy and then told him to go to bed? Jon didn’t give Spencer a chance to speak. He straightened up and left, only glancing back once before the door closed and Spencer was alone in his new room in New Orleans. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment/kudos if you enjoyed, and feel free to visit my tumblr @fluffydallon!


	3. Part three: Jon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fucking... love this AU. I also love Spencer Smith and it's his birthday so yeh boiii!

_**Part three: New Orleans, Louisiana.** _

_**June 17, 1994.** _

_**(Jon)** _

 

Jon looked back at Spencer one final time before closing the door to the second guest room. He leaned against it for a moment, pressing the heels of his hands to his face and breathing. There was no reason for him to be freaking out, except that he’d just kissed a man he barely knew, and he knew better than that. Jon had known for years that he was bisexual, so being attracted to men wasn’t a surprise. Billie Joe and Adrienne had no issue with it, and the community didn’t care. It didn’t matter who Jon was interested in, so long as they didn’t keep him from doing his job. 

 

Kissing Spencer wasn’t Jon’s best decision. Spencer was a part of this Asmodeus shit, even if he didn’t want to be. No one chose to witness a demon rising; it just happened. 

 

He could always pretend it never happened. Spencer wouldn’t bring it up, considering he was from South Carolina and might not even be into guys. Jon was good at guessing, but he was tired, and he wasn’t always right. 

 

He went to the bathroom to wash his face before going back downstairs to see if Linda was back yet. Jon stared himself down in the mirror, his eyes flicking across his reflection’s face. There was still some blood on his shirt, from the skirmish on the basement floor and from cleaning up Dallon. His beard was getting long, finally, but it wasn’t long enough yet to hide the ugly burn scar that ran up the side of his jaw. Jon brushed his fingers over the scar, feeling the rough skin underneath it. He just wanted to forget about it. 

 

“Is this a mental breakdown, or do you need to go to sleep?” Linda asked from the doorway. Jon jumped, not having heard her approach. She handed him a hand towel. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you. Adie’s downstairs with Ryan and Brendon, by the way. Where’d you put Spencer?”

 

“Room three,” Jon said. He turned around and leaned up against the sink. “How was the trip? Anything interesting happen?”

 

“Well, Brendon and Dallon are lovers, so that’s something,” Linda said. “It’s why Brendon was so upset by the whole thing. That, and the usual trauma that comes from seeing someone tortured for almost a week straight.”

 

“They were in there for a week?” Jon exclaimed. He stood up, and then leaned back again. Brendon and Dallon were fine now. They had Adrienne taking care of them, and she was genuinely magical when it came to healing. She’d also picked up all the good creole recipes from around the city, so Brendon and Dallon weren’t going to starve.

 

“Five days,” Linda said. She glanced over her shoulder, down the hall to the stairs and the room where Spencer was sleeping. “Ryan… didn’t seem phased by anything, though, which is weird. I mean, she was there when I jumped the demon, and she had to have seen that woman bleeding Dallon out before we got there. I think something’s up with her.”

 

“Do you think Spencer’s in on it, too?” Jon asked. He figured there was some dark secret Ryan and Spencer had with each other. Everyone had a dark point in their past, but the way those two had acted made Jon think that they shared their secret. 

 

“I don’t know,” Linda said, shrugging. “I haven’t talked to him much.”

 

“He’s not much of a talker,” Jon said. Spencer kept to himself, which was another sign that he had something to hide. Jon had gotten over his own issues long ago. They were still there, but he knew how to deal with them now. He no longer feared fire, and he’d made his peace with spirits. Well, as much as he could. He still fucking hated them, and even though he dreamed of going to Europe to explore old churches with Tre, he knew he could never do it alone. 

 

He and Linda returned downstairs, to where the others were. Ryan had found a seat behind the desk, and she was drinking something from a mug that smelled like Mike’s favourite tea. Mike was more of a coffee guy, but he knew his teas as well. Ryan looked up as Linda and Jon appeared at the bottom of the stairs, following their movements with her deep brown eyes. 

 

Yeah, there was definitely something up with her. No one looked that tense when a stranger walked into the room. 

 

“Is there any extra tea, or is that just for you?” Jon asked. It was always easier to be friendly. He knew, from experience, that sometimes people just didn’t click, but he prefered trying to get along with everyone. There were a few people in the business that Jon hated working with, because they got on his nerves, and a few others who made him feel off, but for the most part he was good with just about anyone. 

 

“I made it,” she said. Her eyes were narrowed, and she was watching Linda move around behind Jon even as she talked to him. “There was a recipe beside the stove, if you want it.”

 

“I didn’t know Mike had recipes,” Linda said. Jon glanced over his shoulder. She was straightening out the display of rosaries. “I thought he just memorised shit and hoped for the best.”

 

“Apparently tea is different,” Jon said, and shrugged. He turned his attention back to Ryan. “Is there any left, though? Tea usually brews for many, unless you’re a heathen and you heat the water in the microwave.”

 

“I’ve never used a microwave before, so no,” Ryan said. She took a sip from her cup, glaring over the rim at Jon. He knew she didn’t trust him, and he understood why, but Jon wished Ryan wasn’t acting so guarded. She set the cup down on the desk, but didn’t let go of it. “I made it on the stove. It should still be warm. Where’s Spencer, by the way? You didn’t abandon him, did you?”

 

“He’s upstairs,” Jon said. “Asleep.”

 

“Good,” Ryan said. 

 

Jon stood up from where he’d been leaning against the desk and headed around to the back office where the kitchen was. The Armstrong’s kitchen served as the office for the voodoo souvenir shop they used as a front. Behind that was the back of the house, where Adrienne, Billie, and anyone else who came through ran the real business: dealing with the supernatural. 

 

Jon poured himself a cup of tea, wishing it was coffee. There was a coffee maker, but it was pretty shit in comparison to the tea. The only bad thing about witches was that they really liked their tea, and didn’t care about coffee as much. Mike was the only exception, but he put so many grounds in his coffee that he could take readings from the bottom of his cup if he wanted to. 

 

He could hear Linda and Ryan talking from out front. Linda’s voice was higher, with Ryan’s sounding like a bored, drawn out monotone. They both sounded southern, but a far off southern. Jon was used to the N’awlins drawl. Sometimes he had nightmares where it seeped into his own way of talking. 

 

Jon sighed, and took his tea out to the main area. Linda was still standing, but she’d pulled her hair back into a ponytail. Ryan was sitting, with her legs pulled up to her chest, and Jon could see the veins on her hands when she moved them to grab her tea. 

 

“So, what  _ did _ you two do with the body?” Jon asked. It was a good time, since the three of them were alone. 

 

“There’s a door that leads under the house,” Ryan said. “We rolled her up into a tarp and hid the body there.”

 

“And then scrubbed like hell to get rid of anything that could be used to trace back to us,” Linda said. She pulled out a granola bar and ripped it open. She split it in half and offered one half to Jon. “The good news is that Helen Mason--that was her name--didn’t have a lot of friends left. Most of the names in her phonebook were scratched through.”

 

“Probably because Baptists don’t like it when you start slicing up boys in your basement,” Ryan said. She drank from her tea. “I hate Baptists.”

 

“Spencer said something along those lines,” Jon said. Spencer hadn’t said that specifically, but he’d seemed pretty averse to Baptists as a concept. If Jon was right, and Ryan was transsexual as he thought, then she and Spencer would have a good reason to dislike Baptists. They, and most other Christian groups, didn’t like anything queer. 

 

“Spencer has a personal vendetta against them,” Ryan said. “I just hate the Christian church in general.”

 

_ Wonder how Brendon feels about that _ , Jon thought, thinking back to Dallon and Spencer’s minor disagreement in the coffee parking lot. Some religious people were neutral when it came to interacting with disbelievers. Others were way too evangelistic for Jon’s taste. 

 

“The church has a lot of issues,” Linda agreed. She crumpled up the granola wrapper and walked over to Ryan to throw it away in the trashcan kept behind the desk. “I wasn’t allowed to wear anything above my knees growing up. I wasn’t supposed to wear pants, but somehow I convinced my dad to allow it.”

 

“What fucking church did you go to?” Ryan exclaimed, wrinkling her nose. 

 

Jon smiled to himself. It was good to see that Ryan already had a foul mouth. That had been the biggest culture shock for Linda when she first came down to New Orleans. Everyone here swore. Fuck wasn’t a curse word, but a state of being. 

 

“A church of Christ in Texas,” Linda said. “I left when I was eighteen, joined up with Jon, and I haven’t been back yet.”

 

“Rule number one of being in this business: you can’t ever go back home,” Jon said. It was a harsh rule, but it had always been for the best. No one came into this line of work because they thought it would be fun. Tragedy, broken homes, desperation, that was what led people to New Orleans. Billie’s family thought he was dead, Tre’s had been deported long ago, Mike was an orphan, and Jon didn’t know how Adrienne got involved. He just knew that New Orleans was her second home. 

 

“Are y’all hiring, then?” Ryan asked. There was a self-deprecating smirk on her face. Small, but there. “Because I have no reason to ever go back to where I came from.”

 

“If you want to,” Jon said. “There’s a lot of weird shit going on in this country. The more help, the better.”

 

“I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty,” Ryan said. Something dark flashed over her eyes when she said it, and Jon got the feeling Ryan wasn’t just a thief. Her eyes flicked over to Linda, and Jon followed her gaze for a moment. Linda wasn’t reacting. Whatever Ryan was hiding, Linda knew more about it than Jon did. “And I don’t think anywhere else would want to hire me. Y’all are my best bet at this point.”

 

“What about Spencer?” Jon asked. He wanted to see what Ryan would say, if she’d bring her best friend into this life or not.

 

Ryan shrugged. “Spencer’s his own person. He can do whatever he wants, so long as it’s his choice.”

 

“We should all go to bed,” Linda said. She reached over and took Jon’s tea from him, drinking from the cup. “It’s late, and we have a demon to get rid of. I’ll go drag Brendon away from Dallon and Adie, you show Ryan her room.”

 

“Sure thing, boss,” Jon said jokingly. Linda just raised her stolen cup of tea in a salute. 

 

Jon followed Ryan into the kitchen, where she rinsed out her mug with soap and water, dried it off, and put it back up in the shelves as though she’d never touched it. She turned all of the lights off as she left, too, like she was leaving no trace of her existence downstairs. She let Jon lead her up the stairs, but her footsteps were so quiet against the aging wood that Jon had to keep looking back to make sure that Ryan hadn’t stopped without him. 

 

At the top of the stairs, Ryan stopped him. “You don’t have to be so suspicious of me, okay? I’m not going to hurt you unless you do anything to Spencer.”

 

“I’m not going to do anything to Spencer,” Jon said, and hoped that Spencer wouldn’t tell her that they’d kissed earlier. Hopefully, Spencer would be too tired to remember it happening, and assume he’d just dreamed it or something. Ryan seemed older and more dangerous than she was. There was something about her, and how she held herself. She’d seen things that Jon couldn’t imagine, and he’d seen a lot in his life.

 

“Well, that’s good,” Ryan said. She looked down at Jon, with her arms crossed tight across her chest. “He’s my best friend, and I’d do anything for him. Don’t tell him that y’all are hiring. I don’t want him involved in this.”

 

“What happened to Spencer being his own person who could choose his own future?” Jon asked. 

 

“I still stand by that. But I don’t want him getting into anymore trouble than he already has,” Ryan said. She narrowed her eyes. “Goodnight, Jon. Thanks for the rooms.”

 

\-----------------

 

Jon had passed out downstairs on the couch in the back office. He woke to the smell of something cooking, and sat up. Brendon was at the stove, humming some song Jon couldn’t make out, and he was working on omelets. There was coffee brewing to the side. 

 

Jon looked over at the clock on the wall. It was almost noon. “Do you usually make eggs for lunch?”

 

“We all went to sleep at four in the morning,” Brendon said without turning away from the eggs. “This is breakfast, just later than usual.”

 

“Can’t argue with that,” Jon said. “Is the coffee almost ready?”

 

“Yeah. It’s a nice coffeepot, by the way. The diner I used to work in had the worst pots I’d ever seen. I think they were from the 1940s, or something,” Brendon said. He picked up the pan and flipped the omelet over with ease. He glanced over his shoulder at Jon, who was watching him from the couch. “I’m only good with diner food, by the way. Don’t expect anything fancy or French.”

 

“Oh, I just go down to the cafes for beignets,” Jon said. He wasn’t a big fan of French food, but he’d have to be an idiot to turn down authentic New Orleans French breakfasts. Their coffee was quality, even when it tasted like shit. 

 

The coffee pot made a noise, letting Jon and Brendon know it was finished, and Jon stood up. He dropped the blanket down onto the couch and ran his hand through his hair so that it wouldn’t look too slept on. There were already a few mugs out, but none of them were the kind Jon liked. He grabbed a stool and climbed up, opening the cabinet beside Brendon’s head and pulling out a mug from the top shelf. It was handmade, handpainted, and uneven, but Jon was attached to it. Jake had made it a few years ago. It was important.

 

It could also hold a lot of coffee, which was the primary purpose it was used for. Coffee was important, especially since Jon’s job involved a lot of all-nighters and late nights. 

 

“Can you take a cup to Dallon?” Brendon asked. “He likes coffee now, apparently.”

 

“That’s my fault, sorry,” Jon said, grabbing a second mug and filling it up. “I needed something to try and wake him up.”

 

Brendon waved his hand dismissively. “Not the worst thing you could have done.”

 

Jon thought about saying something to Brendon about being careful with his and Dallon’s relationship. Not everyone was as accepting as Jon and his friends. There were a lot of shitty people out there, but Brendon had to have already known that. He looked gay. He looked experienced. 

 

Jon kept his mouth shut and grabbed the two mugs of coffee. He moved through the backrooms with ease, nodding at Gabe, who was manning the phone now and muttering Spanish curses under his breath as he dealt with whoever was on the other line. Gabe made grabby hands at Jon’s coffee, but Jon shook his head and motioned back towards the kitchen. Coffee was always free, you just had to go get it yourself. 

 

Dallon, of course, was an exception for today. He’d nearly died yesterday. He was allowed to have someone bring him coffee. 

 

“Are you stocking crystals?” Jon asked. Dallon was in the stock room, sitting on the edge of a mattress and going through a collection of crystals that Adrienne had shipped in while Jon was in Missouri with Linda. 

 

Dallon looked up. “I felt like I was supposed to be doing something.”

 

“You almost died,” Jon said, shaking his head. He handed over the coffee and sat down beside Dallon. He took a sip of his own. “You don’t have to do shit.”

 

“I’m fine, though,” Dallon said. He set the crystals down, though, ad turned his attention to the coffee and to Jon. “You know, my parents used to call me their miracle baby. I was supposedly born dead, but I came back… and I heal really, really fast. Do you think there’s something wrong with me, or am I just lucky?”

 

“Did you tell Adrienne about that?” Jon asked. 

 

“No, but she pointed it out,” Dallon said. He set his coffee down on the ground and started unbuttoning his shirt. Jon’s eyes widened for a moment because, uh, what the fuck, but he relaxed when Dallon started pointing to the pinkish coloured scars running across his chest and stomach. He looked up at Jon. “This is from a few days ago. This isn’t normal.”

 

“Jesus,” Jon whispered. He frowned. “Are you sure both of your parents are mortal?”

 

“What?”

 

“Well, sometimes halflings get weird abilities. Like healing, but usually it’s healing others,” Jon said. It wasn’t confirmed, but most people were sure that Tre was actually a halfling, and one of his parents had been a fae before they died. Tre was a weird fucker, in a very Irish way. “There’s nothing wrong with being a halfling. Most people don’t even realise it, and the community isn’t going to hurt you unless you’re a dick.”

 

“Huh,” Dallon said. He buttoned his shirt back up. “If I was half something else, what do you think it would be?”

 

“No idea. I’m not a geneticist. I’m just a witch,” Jon said. 

 

“And a demon hunter,” Dallon said. “Thanks for that, by the way. Being possessed is… not fun.”

 

“Luckily, I’ve never experienced that. But it doesn’t sound fun, sharing a soul and body with something that wants to kill you,” Jon said. He knew there were some people who would let a ghost or spirit possess them to get closer to it and better understand it. That was always dangerous, though. Human bodies were weirdly durable, and essentially priceless. No one wanted to shoot their friend, even if their friend was possessed and not in control of their own body. 

 

Jon didn’t trust his own free will enough to let anything into him. 

 

“It felt like I was splitting in half,” Dallon said. He took a long drink from his coffee and tightened his jaw. “I’m not… I’m against violence, but I want this thing gone.”

 

“We’ll get rid of it, don’t worry,” Jon said. “We just have to figure out where it went.”

 

Dallon looked satisfied with that answer. Jon wished he knew more about demons, or that he’d picked them over werewolves to specialise in, but it was too late to become an expert. Jon knew as much about demons and demonic activity as anyone else in the business. Billie would know, except he was up in Canada, working with some cryptid hunters to start a branch there. 

 

The six of them and Adrienne all had a late breakfast, courtesy of Brendon. The guy was a good cook, it turned out. They all sat in the back room, perched on chairs or on the floor, surrounded by herbs and various bottles of incense. The back room smelled good. It was one of the only places downstairs that didn’t smell faintly of weed, which was because Adrienne didn’t let anyone smoke up while they were working with the stuff back here. It was something about the marijuana ash mixing with the other materials. 

 

Ryan and Spencer were sitting next to each other, watching the others. Spencer was on the floor, facing Jon, while Ryan was sitting on the edge of a desk with her legs crossed at her knees. She kept looking over at Jon with narrowed eyes, and Jon wondered if Spencer had told her about the kiss.

 

Adrienne was between Dallon and Brendon, and Linda was between Jon and Spencer, minding her own business. Jon knew she was paying attention, though. There wasn’t much that got past Linda.

 

“So, other than hunt monsters and demons, what do you guys do?” Brendon asked. He was tapping his feet against each other nervously. 

 

“We run the store, and some other stuff,” Linda said. “We--” she pointed at herself,  Jon, and Adrienne, “--don’t deal with cryptids, but Billie knows a woman in Florida who does, and she’s also got a used car lot as her front, so sometimes we do car repair. We’re all pretty versatile.”

 

Spencer looked up at Ryan, and she looked down at him. She slowly raised one eyebrow, and Spencer tilted his head slightly to the left. Ryan held her fork tighter. Spencer turned back around and looked at Linda. “Do you think she could do something with Ryan’s truck? We’ve been trying to get rid of it for a while.”

 

“Probably,” Linda said. “Adie, do you think we could call LJ later, once all this demon shit clears up?”

 

“I’ll add it to the list,” Adrienne said. 

 

\-----------------

 

Dallon stuck around Jon for most of the morning. Jon was working the shop, since he was there and Adrienne was over loaded with people to take care of and research to do. Dallon learned how to work the shop quickly, spending most of his time there organising the shelves. He steered clear of the rosaries, which threw Jon. Jon waited until there were no tourists in the store, and then he snatched a rosary down and wound it around his hands. 

 

He walked over to Dallon. “You got anything against Catholics?”

 

Dallon jumped. He straightened up and rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at Jon and laughing awkwardly. “I… no. I don’t. Has anyone ever told you that you’re really quiet and intimidating? Because you scared the shit out of me just then.”

 

“Sorry,” Jon said. “I’m used to sneaking around. Not everything I do here is legal.”

 

“It’s alright,” Dallon said. He dropped his gaze to the rosary, and then slowly looked back up to Jon’s face. “I don’t have anything against Catholics. Something just feels off about those. Are you sure they’re real?”

 

“Handmade,” Jon said, dropping the rosary down so that it could dangle from his hand. The little Jesus on the cross was gawking up at him and Dallon in agony. Jon wondered what the fuck was wrong with Christians. Who in their right mind would want to make the symbol of their faith a naked dude writhing in pain? It didn’t seem like a good way to convert people. “Dipped in holy water and everything. We have some holy water, if you want to touch it. It’s pretty cool.”

 

“Does it work?” Dallon asked, following Jon over back behind the desk. That was where they kept all of the holy items. Adrienne ran an occult, voodoo shop. The kind of shit that got tourists attention was usually based around dark magic. Dark magic didn’t like clean shit. 

 

Jon set the rosary down on the counter and grabbed a bottle of holy water. He popped the top off and offered it to Dallon. “I can pour some on your hands? It won’t do anything, since you’re not still possessed, but it feels nice. It’s always cool, even in the summer or when the air isn’t working.”

 

“That’s impressive,” Dallon said, and turned his hands over so that his palms were facing upwards. 

 

“Am I interrupting a ritual?” Spencer asked. He’d shaved, and his hair was tucked back behind his ears. He was also wearing a clean shirt, and it looked like something that had once belonged to Mike. At least the sleeves were still there. Mikey had a tendency to rip off his sleeves. Spencer smiled warmly at Jon. “Sorry. Adrienne just wanted to know if you could make lunch, since she’s busy right now.”

 

“Was she interrogating you?” Jon asked. “And, no, you’re not interrupting. Dallon just wanted to see the holy water.”

 

“You wanted to show me the holy water,” Dallon said. His hands were still out. “I was perfectly fine over with the candles.”

 

“Does it… does it do anything?” Spencer asked, cautiously. His face was all scrunched up with concern as he leaned over the desk. It was strangely adorable. Spencer had a baby face when he wasn’t scruffy. He must have shaved after breakfast, because he’d still had a beard the last time Jon saw him. Jon held the holy water tighter, so he didn’t do anything stupid like reach out and stroke Spencer’s cheek to see how soft his skin was. 

 

Jon cleared his throat. “Not unless you’re possessed. Or extremely corrupt. One time a lawyer dude came in here and yelled at us because one of his clients had gotten second degree burns from using this to wash their hands. Turned out the client had been buying underaged prostitutes from South America and had murdered one, and that’s what the lawyer was dealing with.”

 

“I’d have put the fucker in a bath of holy water, if I was that lawyer,” Spencer said, and stood back up, eyeing the bottle warily. 

 

“I would have splashed the lawyer,” Dallon said. “Who willingly helps out a pedophile and a murderer?”

 

“People do weird shit everyday,” Spencer said. He was looking at Dallon differently, though, like he was starting to see the guy from a different, better angle. His eyes were a bright, clear blue and they caught the light from above. He looked over at Jon, and smiled a little. “Are you gonna do it, or what?”

 

“I didn’t want to interrupt you two,” Jon said, and popped the cork off of the top of the bottle. Dallon reached his hands out again, and Jon tipped the bottle over, letting a small amount of the water fall out. Holy water wasn’t easy to get, since very few people in this business still believed in God. Jon didn’t want to waste it. 

 

“Oh, Jesus,” Spencer hissed. Dallon’s hands were glowing where the water had touched him. Dallon was staring down at his own hands with wide eyes, watching as the skin rippled like beams of sunlight were coming out of it. It looked like the light was coming from within Dallon, which was something Jon had never seen before. 

 

Jon balled up the bottom of his shirt and started to dab at Dallon’s hands. He jerked back, though, because Dallon’s hands were really fucking warm. There were little singed holes in Jon’s shirt now, like he’d touched the fabric to fire. Jon stared down at it. “What the actual fuck.”

 

“I’m still glowing,” Dallon said. He looked up at Jon, panic written all over his face. “Should we get Adie?”

 

“Should we get a priest?” Spencer exclaimed. He was also staring at Dallon’s hands. “Wait. Never mind. That would probably make things worse.”

 

“Um, are you in line?” a timid sounding voice said from behind Spencer. Spencer stepped back, Dallon quickly hid his hands behind his back, and Jon turned to see who was there. It was a young woman with two small children, both of whom were holding small baggies of crystals and staring up at Dallon with awe on their faces. Clearly, they’d seen his hands. The woman looked between Jon, Spencer, and Dallon. “My kids found what they were looking for.”

 

“Yeah, I can ring you up, one second,” Jon said, and waved his hands at Spencer and Dallon, hoping they’d back up and pretend nothing weird was going on. People didn’t like the supernatural, and they certainly didn’t like it when they were on vacation. Jon didn’t want to have to deal with another fucking lawsuit, not when there was a demon on the loose somewhere and one of his new companions had glowing hands. He smiled at the woman and her kids. “Did you three find everything okay?”

 

“Why do your hands glow?” one of the kids said, pulling himself up on the counter to get a better look at Dallon. 

 

“Uhh,” Dallon said, looking at Jon for help. 

 

“It’s a magic trick,” Jon blurted out, because kids were easier to convince than parents. Parents were boring. They had no fucking imagination, and they always looked at Jon like he was mentally fucked whenever he tried to explain anything to them. 

 

“That’s so cool!” The kid said, jumping up and down and grinning. “Are you a magician, mister?”

 

“Adam, leave the man alone,” his mom said, rolling her eyes. She handed Jon a twenty and he quickly gave her her change and the two bags of crystals in a paper bag with the store’s name on it. She took the bag and the change and started pulling her kids away from the counter. “We still have things to do, come on. You don’t want to make your dad wait too long, do you?”

 

“Bye mister magician!” the kid yelled as he was dragged off. “Your glow trick is really cool!”

 

Dallon grinned awkwardly, and made an aborted movement with his arm. Once the kids and their mom were out of the store, he brought his hands out from behind his back. They were closed into fists, but Jon could see thin patches of light sneaking out from between his fingers. Spencer hissed in a breath. “Shit. That’s not good.”

 

Jon nodded. “That’s an understatement.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment/kudos if you enjoyed!


	4. Part four: Ryan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been watching a lot of Buzzfeed Unsolved recently and so now I'm really into this AU. Also, Jon and Linda are basically Ryan and Shane on that show. Linda has definitely yelled at ghosts before.

**Part four: New Orleans, Louisiana.**

**(Ryan Ross)**

**June 1994.**

 

The Mormon’s hands glowed. Ryan wasn’t shocked, because there were very few things left in the universe that could actually throw her off-kilter, but she was definitely surprised. There was nothing about glowing hands in the Bible, and that was where most of this nonsense came from anyway. 

 

On top of that, she couldn’t get a good read on Jon. The guy kissed her best friend, and then didn’t do anything else. And he was almost avoiding Spencer, which was disgusting. If Jon didn’t want anything, he shouldn’t have kissed Spencer in the first place. Spencer didn’t exist for men to test their sexuality out on, and if that was what Jon was doing, then Ryan was personally going to take him out behind the building and chase him through New Orleans in her dad’s truck. 

 

“Well, at least it’s died down a bit,” Jon said. The six of them were upstairs, in Brendon and Dallon’s room. There was a map of the United States on a pinboard on one of the walls, and Jon and Linda were standing in front of it while the other four were on the king sized bed in the middle of the room. 

 

If the single bed wasn’t enough to confirm that Dallon and Brendon were a couple of gay Mormons, the fact that Brendon was nearly sitting on top of Dallon definitely was. Ryan envied the world they came from, where they could show affection in public and not shit themselves from fear of being seen. 

 

“It’s still there, though,” Brendon snapped. He’d been on edge since he and Dallon were separated in Missouri. For Dallon’s sake, Ryan hoped Brendon wasn’t like that all the time. Brendon looped an arm around Dallon’s waist, pulling himself closer to the taller Mormon. “Shouldn’t we figure that out before we deal with this demon? I mean, we don’t even know where it is, but we know where Dallon is, and surely one of you guys knows what makes holy water do it’s thing.”

 

“Holy water is the result of a divine belief in Jesus Christ,” Linda said. She was facing the map, with her hands on her hips and her hair up in a ponytail. “You’d have to talk to a priest about it, but no priest in this city is worth his shit. They’re all a little fucked up by the spirits running around.”

 

“The closer you are to divinity, the more susceptible you are to another soul crashing into your body,” Jon explained. “That’s why most possessions happen in extreme religious cults. It’s fucking weird, and it makes me glad I don’t have a specific set of beliefs.”

 

“Maybe Dallon’s just one of those super holy dudes,” Spencer suggested. Ryan held back from rolling her eyes. He needed to stop trying to impress this guy. If Jon gave a shit, he would have done something by now. Ryan wasn’t interested in joining their business thing because she particularly cared about Jon (or Linda, since she didn’t know either of them too well). She was doing it because she didn’t think Spencer would want to be a part of it, and because she knew he deserved better. 

 

She didn’t want to drag him down, in this life or in whatever was coming after they died. 

 

“I’m not,” Dallon said. “I’ve got as many flaws as anyone else here.”

 

Ryan snorted, thinking about dead bodies and open wounds and broken bottles. “That’s a bold statement.”

 

Spencer frowned at her. Ryan gave him a look back, daring him to argue with her. If there was a hell, Ryan knew she was going there, and she’d long ago accepted that about herself. Spencer didn’t have to end up the same, and he didn’t have to stick around because he felt like he could save her. Ryan was fucked, but she was fucked on a biology level, and she couldn’t do shit to fix that. 

 

“Anyway,” Linda said. “We need to find this demon. It’s a pretty major guy, and it could be fucking things up on a national level.”

 

“It’s supposed to be at the most sinful city,” Jon said, leaning back to look at the map. He wasn’t a bad looking guy. Ryan could see why Spencer was interested, but she didn’t want him getting attached to someone who didn’t want the same things that he did. He rubbed at his beard as his eyes scanned the map. “Unfortunately, most large cities in this country are known for being fucked up. I’m not sure where to start.”

 

“Do you have anyone in major cities?” Dallon asked. “Or someone who’s a demon expert and would have a better idea of where to start looking?”

 

Linda and Jon looked at each other. Linda arched an eyebrow. “The phones?”

 

Jon nodded. “It could work. Might not be the best use of communications, but I mean… if someone’s really in danger and there’re six of us calling, someone’ll get it.”

 

“I’ll go tell Adie, you explain it to the kiddos,” Linda said, and grinned at the other four. She left the map up, but grabbed the manila folder that she and Jon had been looking at all morning. Ryan supposed that was their case file, and that they were putting all the information they had on the demon in it. 

 

“So, who here has operated a phone before?” Jon said. He went on to explain what the plan was: there were various hunters and investigators spread out across the country, and usually whoever was in charge of communications only checked in once every few days to make sure everyone was still alive. All the people who worked with Billie and Adrienne knew they could call in if they had an emergency or question, and someone would be on the line to help them out. Jon, Linda, Spencer, Ryan, Brendon, and Dallon were going to go downstairs and take over the phones for a bit, and all everyone who was out in the field, to see if anything was awry.

 

Jon spread his arms out when he finished explaining. “Does that sound good? And if anyone runs into an emergency, just switch lines with Linda or I, and we’ll deal with it.”

 

“What happens if no one picks up?” Ryan asked. 

 

“Then we put that location on a list of possibilities,” Jon said. “We don’t know what this demon’s goal is, but it most likely involves incapacitating a lot of people. And murder. Definitely murder. We need to be prepared for that, wherever we end up. It’s not gonna be pretty, because it rarely is. If anyone wants to stay back here, that’s totally fine, and I’d actually recommend it.”

 

“I’m going,” Spencer said. “Fuck this thing, wherever it is.”

 

Ryan took a deep breath. “I’m going too, then.”

 

“Are we ever going to address Dallon’s hands?” Brendon asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “Because I don’t want to get too involved only for you guys to say fuck it and make Dallon live with glow in the dark hands for the rest of his life. That doesn’t seem fair.”

 

“We’ll look into Dallon once we get a lead on the demon,” Jon said. He seemed genuine, but Ryan wasn’t worried about Dallon’s glowing issue. He could just wear gloves, if it was that annoying. And it didn’t seem to be causing Dallon any pain or discomfort, so Ryan could see why Jon wasn’t focused on it. There was a demon out there, doing who knows what, and that was a lot more pressing than a Mormon whose hands spontaneously started to glow. 

 

Brendon nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Alright. I’m in.”

 

“You know I’m in,” Dallon said. “I’ve seen what that thing can do. I don’t want it hurting anyone else.”

 

* * *

 

In the end, there were only four phones, so Brendon and Ryan sat out while the other four called up everyone involved in monster hunting and asked them if weird demon shit was going on. Unfortunately, there was a lot of weird demon shit in the world, and so they ended up with a pretty long list of possible sites.

 

“This guy still hasn’t answered,” Spencer said. Linda nodded, motioning for Ryan to come over and take over the phone for her so that she could deal with Spencer. Ryan got up from where she’d been sitting next to Brendon and brought her tea over with her to the phone booth. She kept her eyes on Linda and Spencer even as she asked the person on the other end questions. 

 

Linda leaned over Spencer’s desk, frowning. “What do you mean, hasn’t answered? Did you get the hotel lobby?”

 

“I didn’t get anyone,” Spencer said. “And I’ve called a few times, off and on, but no one ever picks up.”

 

“That’s… bad,” Linda said. She pulled the folder closer to herself, running her finger down the list of people Spencer had been calling. “Where did you say he was?”

 

“Stationed in Las Vegas, investigating suspicious deaths in the desert,” Spencer said. He turned the phone so that it was resting against his shoulder. “I mean… Vegas gets called Sin City… you don’t think the demon could be there?”

 

“Shit,” Linda said. “How the hell did we miss that?”

 

“People can be really unobservant. Don’t act too hard on yourself,” Ryan said. She thought about all the times she’d shown up in Jamestown with bruises or cuts on her face, and how everyone knew that her father was an alcoholic and tended to get violent. No one ever put two and two together, though. No one realised that Ryan was being abused. People were dumbasses, ad ignorant, and Ryan hoped that one day that wouldn’t be such an issue.

 

“Jon!” Linda shouted, and Jon perked up from where he’d been talking to someone. “Las Vegas. We have to go, now.”

 

Jon hung up his phone and pulled at the cord of Dallon’s phone to get him to hang up as well. “We can’t just run in without a plan. I’ll talk to Adie, you find out where Billie and Mike are and tell them about Vegas. We need to warn as many people as possible to stay out of there.”

 

“Shouldn’t we bring in as many people as possible?” Brendon asked. “That way we have a better chance of taking down the demon?”

 

“Nope, because we don’t know what it can do, and if there are a bunch of skilled hunters in one place, it’d be too easy for the demon to just get rid of us all at once,” Jon said. “That’d be years of research and knowledge down the drain. It’s better that just the six of us go.”

 

“Oh, so now we’re all just expendable?” Spencer asked, crossing his arms over his chest. 

 

Jon pressed his hand to his forehead. “No. All four of you are important, okay? I don’t go around grabbing random muggles and dragging them into this shit.”

 

“He thinks you’ll have something to offer in Vegas,” Linda said. Her gaze slid over to Ryan, and Ryan remembered when it had been just the two of them in the basement, cleaning out the carnage and dead body. Ryan knew what her talent was in this situation. She didn’t get phased easily. She wouldn’t chicken out and book it when Linda and Jon needed back-up, and that made her valuable to them. 

 

Spencer, of course, was a stubborn piece of shit and didn’t know when to quit. If Ryan went somewhere, he was likely to follow, even if that place was a demon-controlled Las Vegas. 

 

“Spencer and I are good at what we do,” Ryan said, in case there was any doubt. 

 

“And Dallon and I?” Brendon asked. “What are you expecting from us?”

 

“The demon knew you,” Jon said. He didn’t look judgemental. “I don’t need to know why, but if there’s anything you know about this guy that we can use to our advantage, then awesome. If not, you’re religious enough to still be helpful. Same for Dallon.”

 

Ryan looked over at Dallon. His hands were still glowing, a soft, white light emanating up from his palms. She didn’t know if the glowing was a result of him really believing in God, or if the holy water had sensed that something was fucked up with him and was making a point. Ryan didn’t believe in God, and she was secure in that, because if she did believe in God then she’d have to accept that He hated her and Spencer, and then she’d have to fight God for being a dick to Spencer. 

 

Ryan didn’t want to fight God, so she just didn’t believe that He existed in the first place. It was easier for everyone involved. 

 

The five of them headed back downstairs, where Adie and Linda were gathering up a bunch of supplies. There was holy water, a handful of bibles, and three handguns. Linda looked up and offered a gun to Ryan. “I figured you’d know how to use this.”

 

“I have one in the truck, thanks,” Ryan said. 

 

“This has silver bullets,” Linda said. She turned the gun sideways, so that Ryan could see the little symbols that had been carved into it. “And it’s protected, so it can’t be used against you. Trust me, this is the better option.”

 

Ryan took the gun. Spencer passed, instead grabbing a bottle of holy water. Jon perched himself on the edge of the table, unloading and repacking his backpack while he and Adie talked things over. Ryan watched him for a moment, and then looked down at the handgun. It felt light, but when she opened it, it was fully loaded. Nine bullets. Ryan didn’t know how useful they’d be against a demon. 

 

“What car are we taking?” Spencer said. He placed his hand on Ryan’s back, subtly, grounding her. She wasn’t eighteen and standing over her father’s body, shaking and covered in blood. She wasn’t terrified about the future anymore, because she wasn’t alone and she wasn’t in danger. 

 

“Jon’s,” Linda said. She slipped one of the other handguns into the waistband of her jeans. “No offense, but your truck looks like it’s about to fall apart.”

 

Ryan was okay with that. Her dad’s truck was dangerous, because is was recognisable. She didn’t know if there were still people looking for her and Spencer. She knew Spencer thought they were still in danger, but Ryan didn’t think she was that important. 

 

“Who’s taking the third gun?” Brendon asked. He held up a bottle of holy water and looked at it through the light. 

 

“You, probably,” Linda said. “Unless you’re against weapons, and then I can try to make Jon take it. He’s not a fan of guns, though. He doesn’t trust them.”

 

“I’ll take it, then,” Brendon said. He looked wary, staring down the gun as he turned it over in his hands, and Ryan hoped they didn’t get into a situation where Brendon had to use it. Guns were dangerous, but unfortunately, they were sometimes necessary. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment/kudos if you enjoyed!


	5. Part five: Spencer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, here's a fic that's pretty damn sacreligious! I've missed this fic, and it's good to be back. We're getting into the thick of the action (and the romance, ayee) now, so things are going to get really fucking fun soon. 
> 
> Also: warning for violence and sexual assault. Its short, but its there. There's also a mention of self-harm, but not active self-harming.

The car was quiet. Brendon was staring at the gun he’d been given, and Ryan was staring out the window, her jaw tight. Dallon had his arm around Brendon, rubbing at his shoulder. Linda was driving, with Jon beside her, flipping through his notebook and muttering various Latin phrases under his breath. Spencer was stuck in the backseat, watching them all. 

 

He wondered if they were walking into their deaths. He’d seen what that demon could do, just to one person. He could only imagine what it would do to an entire city. 

 

Without looking over at him, Ryan reached out and took Spencer’s hand in hers. They knew each other well enough to know when the other one was hurting, or scared. Spencer hadn’t even realised how scared he was until Ryan had his hand, and he had to close his eyes and take a deep breath just to hold it all down. He was nineteen, in a car with four people he’d known for barely a day, and he was driving across the country to fight a demon. 

 

“We’re sure it’s in Las Vegas?” Dallon asked, looking at Linda and Jon through the rearview mirror. 

 

Linda nodded back at him. “Yeah. It makes the most sense. If I were a demon and I wanted to cause as much chaos as possible, I wouldn’t start in the middle of nowhere. I’d go right to the center of whatever I thought was the most corrupt place. Vegas is… pretty fucked up.”

 

“You’d be surprised how fucked up small town America is, then,” Ryan muttered. She was still watching the world go by. There wasn’t much of anything to look at. They’d been on I-49 for a little over an hour, and there were still only trees outside. The sun was high in the sky, but there weren’t many people on this side of the road. 

 

Most people spent their summers headed towards a beach. Spencer and his new group of people were headed towards possible death. 

 

“I know,” Linda said. “I’m from a small town. We’re driving up north first to avoid it.”

 

“Rule one of monster hunting is that you don’t go home,” Jon said. He closed his little notebook and tucked his pencil inside of it before turning around to look at the four of them in the back seat. “It’s dangerous, both for you and the people you left behind. Monsters, demons… they don’t work like we do. If they get a sniff of you even once, they won’t forget you. And they’re assholes, so they like to go after your family if they can figure out who you’re related to.”

 

“My family’s dead,” Ryan said. “So that’s not an issue. And Spencer’s family is dead to him, so don’t worry about us.”

 

Jon craned his neck to get a better view of Dallon and Brendon. Brendon shrugged. “My parents already think I’m going to hell. After this, I guess they’ll be right, and I don’t want to hear them say I told you so. I’m not going home, either.”

 

“I’m going wherever Brendon goes,” Dallon said. That was pretty bold. Spencer figured that Jon didn’t care about Dallon and Brendon being gay, since he’d been the one to kiss Spencer the other night. Linda, however. Spencer didn’t know her opinions on things, and since she was from a small town in Texas, he didn’t have high hopes for her. He’d defend Dallon and Brendon, if he had to, but if Linda started asking questions about him or Ryan, Spencer would shut them down. 

 

Spencer didn’t let anyone hurt Ryan, not if he could stop them. She’d been through enough already. 

 

Jon nodded. “Alright. Well, if we live through this, you guys don’t have to stay in New Orleans. We’ve got hotspots across the states, so if there’s a place you wanted to visit, let me know, and I’ll get you directions.”

 

* * *

 

Spencer dozed off right before the Texas state line. He was leaned against Ryan when he closed his eyes, but he woke up nestled against Brendon and Dallon. Both of the men were also asleep, and the sun was down, so no one could see that Spencer was sleeping on them. He sat up, slowly, and rubbed his eyes. Jon was on his other side, instead of Ryan, who was driving. 

 

Spencer frowned. “When did that happen?”

 

“Linda needed a break not long after you three fell asleep, so Ryan and I switched around and she took over,” Jon said. He reached over and moved a lock of Spencer’s hair out of his face, like it was normal and not gay. Spencer swallowed. Jon smiled. “We’re just north of a place called Wichita Falls, by the way. Help me convince the girls to pull off for the night?”

 

“It’s not that late,” Ryan said from the front seat. She had a coffee sitting in the cup holders, and Linda was sipping from one of her own. They looked like they’d been driving for five hours each. 

 

“I can take over,” Spencer offered. 

 

Jon rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “That’s… not the solution I was going for.”

 

“Jon, we don’t know what’s going on in Vegas. The sooner we get there, the less lives are in danger,” Linda said, sitting up and looking significantly more awake. “There are six people in this car, and it’s a little over fifteen more hours to Las Vegas. We can trade off drivers until then. It’s fine.”

 

“And what if we’re all drained and sleep deprived when we get there, huh?” Jon asked. “Do you really want to face off a demon after being in a car for a day straight?”

 

“We’ve done worse,” Linda said. 

 

“What if we drove a bit longer, so that tomorrow we won’t have as far to go, and we’ll be less drained?” Spencer offered. Ryan glared at him through the rearview. He had no idea why. Maybe she was more tired than she was letting on. “I’ll take the next leg, if someone’ll direct me.”

 

“Linda? You still good to do directions?” Jon asked. She nodded, and told Ryan to pull off at the next exit with a gas station. They were low on gas, and it would be a good oppurtunity for people to get coffee or use the bathroom or whatever they needed to do. 

 

They pulled off in Vernon, Texas, at a Murphy’s gas station. Jon woke Dallon and Brendon up, and everyone except Dallon and Linda went inside to refuel themselves. Brendon headed to the bathroom, and Spencer followed him. Not so much because he needed to piss, but because he wanted to talk to Brendon, and make sure he and Dallon both realised what they were doing. This wasn’t Los Angeles or New York or some fancy liberal city. This was Texas, in the middle of nowhere, and people like Brendon or Dallon or Spencer didn’t fare well out here. 

 

Hell, Spencer had considered just giving up and killing himself a few years ago, because it was so terrifying to think about the future. Ryan was the reason he hadn’t gone through with it. He didn’t want her to be on her own, and they were more likely to survive together. She probably wouldn’t have gotten away from Jamestown without Spencer there to make sure she didn’t do anything too rash. 

 

“You don’t actually have to take a piss, do you?” Brendon said once they were in the bathroom. No one else was there with them, and there were only two stalls. The light was flickering, and the whole room smelled strongly of piss. It was not at all appealing. 

 

Spencer shook his head. “No. You?”

 

“You’re not with Ryan, are you?” Brendon asked, raising his eyebrow. 

 

“No,” Spencer said, frowning. He hated when people asked that, as if there was a way to label what he and Ryan were. They weren’t lovers, or dating, or even soulmates, because that made it seem like fate had brought them together. He and Ryan were victims of circumstance, and the results of abuse and terror and trauma. Their lives sucked. They shouldn’t have had to be together the way they were. 

 

Spencer crossed his arms over his chest, pulling the sleeve of his shirt back down over his wrist. “But you’re with Dallon.”

 

“Yeah,” Brendon said, raising himself up and puffing his chest out a little, daring Spencer to say something in response. “Is that an issue?”

 

“Not to me,” Spencer said. “But I’m not everyone. And if you two don’t want to get your asses beat, you might want to learn the definition of subtlety.”

 

Brendon rolled his eyes. “Yeah, like Jon and Linda give a shit.”

 

“Are you sure?” Spencer asked, raising an eyebrow. 

 

“Completely. Just like I’m sure that Dallon thinks you’re attractive, and so do I, and if we make it out of this--”

 

“No,” Spencer said, because he wasn’t about to sign up for a threeway with two guys he didn’t know. He was still trying to figure out what Jon wanted when he’d kissed Spencer that night, and he wasn’t going to add anything else to his list of mysteries. “Sorry, but I’m not that kind of guy.”

 

“Of course not,” Brendon said, laughing a little to himself. “Well, now this is awkward.”

 

“Imagine being in my shoes,” Spencer said. “I never thought one Mormon guy would want to fuck me, let alone two.”

 

“Who said anything about fucking?” Brendon raised an eyebrow, grinning a little. “Dallon and I were going to go to New York and move in together after our mission ended anyway. We thought you might want to come with us, and if anything comes of it, well, I wouldn’t complain.”

 

“I don’t think I’d make a good New Yorker,” Spencer said. “But, uh, thanks for the offer, anyway.”

 

He leaned forward and kissed Brendon, because he could die in the next twenty four hours, and he’d been wondering how Brendon kissed anyway. The guy had nice lips, and he was constantly moving around. He stilled when Spencer kissed him, all of his energy going to his mouth as he kissed back, and melted under Spencer. Spencer wasn’t expecting that. Ryan had always fought back, unwilling to just give in to Spencer, and Jon hadn’t kissed like a guy who wanted to take it, but Brendon was practically begging Spencer to slam him against the wall with the way he pulled the taller man down. 

 

Spencer backed the two of them against one of the stalls, just to keep Brendon from falling down on his ass, and placed his hands on Brendon’s hips to keep him upright. Brendon wound his arms loosely around Spencer’s neck, pulling back from the kiss just enough so that he could look up at Spencer. He ran his tongue over his lips. “You sure you’re not that kind of guy?”

 

“I’m--” The door to the bathroom swung open as Spencer was talking, and he felt like he invented teleportation with the way he moved to the other side of the bathroom. He hoped he looked like he hadn’t been making out with another guy, and then looked up to see who’d come in. 

 

It was an older man, with a missing tooth and a scraggly beard. He looked between the two boys for a moment, before shaking his head and going into the stall that Brendon wasn’t standing in front of. As soon as Spencer heard the lock click shut, he grabbed Brendon by the arm and dragged him out of there. 

 

Spencer glanced at Brendon as the two made their way to the front of the store. “We’re not talking about that, understand?”

 

“Understand,” Brendon said, nodding fiercely. He looked just as spooked as Spencer felt. Spencer could feel his heart racing all the way down to his wrists. Brendon freed himself from Spencer’s grasp and strode up to where Ryan and Jon were trying to hold six cups of coffee between the two of them. Brendon leaned in and grabbed two of them, before winking and grinning. “Don’t worry, I got you guys. And if there’s food, Spencer’ll carry it.”

 

“I will?” Spencer asked, and took Ryan’s two coffees instead. He shrugged at her. “Guess the food is on you, Ry.”

 

“I’m getting only black licorice, then,” Ryan said, because she knew Spencer hated it. Ryan thought it tasted good, which just meant that she had messed up taste buds, and not that she was correct. 

 

“Alright, not my issue,” Spencer said. He bumped his hip against Ryan’s as he passed her and headed towards the register. The four of them checked out, using the cash Jon had for travelling instead or Ryan and Spencer’s money. Spencer didn’t know if Ryan had brought their money with them, or if it was still in her dad’s truck back in New Orleans. 

 

Dallon and Linda were sitting on the hood of the car, with Dallon laughing at something Linda had said as the other four approached. Linda looked up and reached for one of the coffees, which Spencer handed over. She brought it to her nose and nodded. “Did you guys know Dallon’s dad almost dropped him while he was getting baptised?”

 

“And that Linda almost set her dad’s church on fire because she tripped over the acolyte robe?” Dallon said, snorting a little. Spencer was glad that those two were getting along. It meant that Linda wasn’t going to be outright homophobic, if she was homophobic to start with. Spencer hoped Dallon or Jon one would mention something to him or Brendon if she was. It seemed important to know if they were going to face down a demon. 

 

“I did, actually,” Jon said, motioning for Linda to hand the keys over. She did, begrudgingly, and Jon tossed them to Spencer. “Your turn. Do you care who your co-pilot is?”

 

“Not really,” Spencer said. He wanted Ryan to be able to rest, so he wasn’t going to make her stay up in the front with him. Linda ended up volunteering, even though she’d been directing Ryan before and then driving before that. Jon didn’t look too impressed, but Linda was a grown ass woman, and if she wanted to stay up into the middle of the night, then there was nothing Jon or anyone else could do to stop her. 

 

It was a quiet drive. Spencer let the radio fizzle in and out of stations as he drove up through Texas. Jon, Ryan, and Brendon were all asleep in the backseat. Dallon was still awake, but he was quiet, just looking out the window into the dark. 

 

“Jon told me,” Linda said about an hour into Spencer’s driving. “About last night. Or, this morning. Whenever.”

 

“He did?” Spencer asked, barely showing any response. He wasn’t sure what the right kind of response would be in this situation. He couldn’t get a good read on Linda, and not in the same way he couldn’t get a good read on the others. With Brendon and Dallon, and even Jon, Spencer could somewhat figure out what they were thinking, because they didn’t hide their emotions very well. Linda, on the other hand. She was a closed book, stapled shut, with no sign as to how to open her. 

 

Spencer glanced over at her, hoping to get something. Nothing. “Are you okay with that?”

 

“He’s my business partner, not my romantic partner,” Linda said. “He can do whatever, or whoever, he wants.”

 

“Huh.”

 

Spencer could feel Linda’s eyes boring into the side of his head. He glanced at Dallon through the rearview mirror. Dallon was acting like he wasn’t at all interested in the conversation going on in the front seat. Linda shifted around beside Spencer, the map crinkling around in her lap. “What, am I supposed to care? Not everyone has the same backwards-ass ideas as your people.”

 

“My people?”

 

“Ryan told me that you and her came from a very conservative little town in South Carolina,” Linda said. “So yes, your people. Dayton was never great, but we weren’t ever as bad as South Carolina.”

 

“It’s not hard to beat,” Spencer said, rolling his eyes. He didn’t know why he was defending his home state. It had never stood up for him. “And didn’t Jon just have a speech about never being able to go home? Why’re you so tied up in where you came from if you’re still here?”

 

“Because just because you can’t go back to somewhere, doesn’t mean you were never from there,” Linda said. “Whether I like it or not, I was born and raised in a small town east of Houston, and that had a major impact on who I am now. The same goes for you and Ryan.”

 

“You two are incredibly bitter over nothing,” Dallon said without looking away from the window. Spencer looked back at him anyway, ready to snap back with some kind of reply, when a pair of glaringly bright headlights flashed over the front windshield and Spencer swerved, swearing loudly as he did so. 

 

Linda reached for the steering wheel as well, trying to keep them on the highway, but the car barreling towards them didn’t seem to care and slammed into them regardless. Spencer was pretty sure he heard someone scream before he went blind from the light, and then his head collided with something and everything went black, once again. 

 

* * *

 

He woke up in a bed, with Dallon sitting at the end of it. Except, it wasn’t Dallon, it was sexy but evil demon Dallon, which meant that Spencer wasn’t really awake, and he was hallucinating. He scrambled to sit up, reaching for his knife, which didn’t exist anymore because he was entirely naked. Spencer stared down at his thighs and his dick. “What the fuck.”

 

“You six are a lot more resilient than I thought,” Dallon but not Dallon said, sliding up the mattress so that he was between Spencer’s knees. Asmodeus. It’s name was Asmodeus, and it was just wearing Dallon’s face, for whatever reason. It grinned, Dallon’s face splitting open as though he’d sliced it with a razor. “I wasn’t expecting that from such a ripe batch of sinners. What is it that makes you all tick?”

 

“...are you asking me or is this a rhetorical question?” Spencer asked. He was naked, probably drugged up in a hospital, and hallucinating that there was a demon in front of him. 

 

Asmodeus moved forward and snatched Spencer’s face, dragging him into a kiss. It tasted like blood and semen and the burnt remains of a failed barbecue. When it laughed, it felt like being electrocuted in Columbia again. Spencer jerked back, punching his fists against Asmodeus’s chest, but the demon just laughed harder and pressed it’s hand over Spencer’s dick. Spencer screamed into its mouth, punching harder. Asmodeus swiped it’s tongue across his face. “Oh no, Spencey, this is all very, very real. And just like Trevor, and your little trip to Columbia, you won’t be forgetting it any time soon.”

 

Spencer opened his mouth just enough to chomp down on Asmodeus’s tongue, and ground down until he could feel the thing’s disgusting blood spurting in his mouth. Spencer let go and spat in the demon’s face before shoving it away. “Fuck you! Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you! FUCK YOU!”

 

“You can repeat it as many times as you like, but it won’t changed what happened between us,” Asmodeus said, letting its tongue loll out of its mouth. It really did look like a possessed, evil Dallon. It dropped its eye down to Spencer’s crotch and Spencer slammed his legs shut reflexively. “Or that you wanted it.”

 

“Eat shit, you fucking fuck,” Spencer spat out. Fuck demons. Fuck conversion therapy. Fuck everyone who thought that sexuality was a thing you could control or that anything like this could ever be okay. Fuck them all. Spencer snarled, feeling a drop of the thing’s blood roll down his chin. “We’re going to kill you, you ugly son of a bitch. And I’m going to make sure you  _ hate it _ .”

 

* * *

 

“Wake up, come on,” someone was shaking Spencer, hard. He panicked, and punched at them. 

 

“Yo, what the fuck?” someone else said. It sounded like Jon, but Spencer didn’t trust anything right now. “Does he usually do that?”

 

“He doesn’t usually get in car crashes, so no, he does not,” the first voice said again, now with a significantly annoyed tone in their voice. Spencer sat up, shakily, to see that he was laid out on the side of the highway, with Ryan and Jon leaning over him. Ryan was holding a hand to her cheek. She didn’t look impressed with him at all. “Well, you survived.”

 

“Barely,” Spencer muttered, trying not to think about the encounter with Asmodeus. Bad. Badbadbadbadbad _ badbadba-- _

 

“You didn’t have a pulse for about two minutes, by the way,” Jon said. He leaned forward, glancing at Ryan before he did so, and pressed two fingers to the side of Spencer’s neck. His fingers were like ice against Spencer’s skin, and he flinched away. Jon frowned. “Are you--did that hurt?”

 

Spencer shook his head. “No. Your fingers were cold. I'm fine.”

 

“Shut up. You were in a car accident, you're not  _ fine _ ,” Ryan said, because she didn't fall for any of Spencer's bullshit. This wasn't him cutting or skipping meals because he was too nauseous to keep anything down. This wasn't the result of trauma, as far as Ryan could tell. She was wrong, because she hadn't been with Spencer, but she didn't need to know. She couldn't protect Spencer from a fucking demon, and he didn't want to worry her about something she couldn't fix. Ryan had enough to deal with. 

 

Ryan shooed Jon away and crouched down next to Spencer. “Linda's arm is broken, probably. She's almost as much of an idiot as you are.”

 

“You're okay, though, right?” Spencer asked, leaning against her. 

 

Ryan gently pressed a kiss to the top of Spencer's head. “Yeah. We're all okay. Frazzled, down an entire car, but okay. I don't want to have to go to a hospital, though. That'd take too long.”

 

“If Linda needs it--”

 

“If either of you need it,” Ryan said, her voice sharp. “You blacked out, and like Jon said, you didn't have a pulse. We had to do CPR on you. I was fucking terrified, Spence.”

 

“I'm okay now,” Spencer said, because he didn't feel like he'd almost died. His chest was sore and his head hurt, but nothing felt like it was going to give out on him. He looked up at Ryan. “I promise. I'm okay. I don't need a doctor or a hospital or anything. Maybe just an ice bath.”

 

The two of them sat on the highway for a while. Dallon, Brendon, and Jon were all arguing about what to do, and Linda was arguing back, saying she was fine. Jon didn't want to go to a hospital if they didn't have to, but Dallon didn't want them to fight a demon when Linda's arm was broken and in a makeshift sling. Spencer rolled his eyes, and then winced because the motion hurt, and gently pressed his face against Ryan's shoulder. She rubbed his back. “The other car is still there, but I haven't seen anyone get out of it.”

 

Spencer frowned. “That's not good. Has anyone checked to make sure the driver isn't dead?”

 

Ryan shook her head. “I was too caught up in you and everyone else to care.”

 

Spencer let out a deep breath. He wiggled his legs, which moved just fine. Slowly, he started getting up, and Ryan followed him, protesting only mildly. He had to lean against her as they walked towards the car, which was big and heavy and looked a little like a SWAT car. Spencer moved around to the driver's side and looked through the window. It was dark, and the headlights on Jon's car were out. “I can't see shit. Do you have a flashlight?”

 

“Yeah, hold on,” Ryan said. A moment later, she was beside him, clicking on her flashlight and shining it into the car. 

 

Spencer's eyes widened. “Holy shit.”

 

“Holy shit indeed,” Ryan whispered. She shone the flashlight around, just in case, but there was no sign of anyone in the car. No blood, no remnants of a crash, nothing. There was just the shattered glass of the windshield strewn across the front seats and keys still in the ignition. Ryan turned to Spencer with fear in her eyes. “Ghost?”

 

“Why would a ghost have car keys?” Spencer asked. 

 

“I don't know,” Ryan said. “But what other explanation is there? Cars don't drive themselves.”

 

Spencer didn’t know either. He thought it might have something to do with Asmodeus, but he didn’t want to bring it up. He wanted that thing to stay in Las Vegas, so that he can his new companions could come to it, and not the other way around. Spencer didn’t know what the odds were, but he knew they weren’t in their favour, and having a teleporting, car-possessing demon wasn’t going to help. Asmodeus needed to get the fuck out, and stay the fuck out, at least until everyone in the group was back to full health. 

 

“What are you two doing?” Brendon asked, startling them both. Ryan swung around, pointing her flashlight into his eyes and momentarily blinding him. Brendon squinted, covering his face with his hand. “Were you seriously about to steal a dead guy’s car?”

 

“There’s no dead guy,” Ryan said. She lowered her light, and shone it back towards the car. “There’s no guy at all.”

 

“What,” Brendon said, and jogged up to the car. He looked fine, other than a small cut on his chin that had been covered up by an Ace bandage. He pressed between Ryan and Spencer to look into the car, and his eyes grew comically wide as he looked around the empty vehicle. “Wait, what. How. Car’s need--”

 

“That’s what we said,” Spencer said. He looked down at Brendon. “And we don’t steal from dead people, alright? We have some standards.”

 

“I wasn’t--” Brendon sputtered out, but Spencer wasn’t listening. He and Ryan weren’t… they just weren’t. They did some things that were illegal, or morally grey or whatever, but they weren’t needlessly cruel. They didn’t steal from poor people, or mark up shit just for the sake of making more money off of it. They did what they had to to survive, and sometimes the necessary made them look like criminals. Life was unfair that way. 

 

“Forget it,” Spencer said, waving his hand dismissively. “It’s… we have other things to deal with.”

 

For one, there was the empty car that had crashed into them. And then there was Linda, who still had a broken arm, and they were out on the highway in the middle of nowhere, not sure where the nearest hospital would be. Spencer didn’t even know where the closest phone was, and it wasn’t as though there were a bunch of cars driving by who could see them. The six of them were stranded alone on the side of the road, with a potentially possessed car that could start back up at any time. 

 

Ryan narrowed her eyes for a second before handing Spencer her flashlight. She leapt up onto the hood of the car and leaned in through the shattered windshield, careful not to cut her hands or arms on the glass, and pulled the keys out. She slid off of it and turned to the two boys. “Just in case whoever did this gets any wild ideas.”

 

Brendon nodded. “Smart. Let’s go get Jon.”

 

Jon and Linda were still in a heated argument off the side of the road. Linda had a cut across the right side of her face that Dallon was blotting at, and she was holding her broken arm close to her chest. It was her left arm, so it wasn’t entirely detrimental, but still. She was short an arm, and as far as Spencer could tell, she was a good portion of the muscle between the two of them. 

 

“Where’d you guys go?” Dallon asked, wiping away more blood from Linda’s cheek. He frowned. “Are those car keys?”

 

“We didn’t steal them,” Ryan said, and tossed them to Jon, who caught them without pausing his rant to Linda. “There’s no one in the car, and no sign that there ever was anyone.”

 

“The front windshield’s gone, but the rest of the car was in tact,” Brendon said. He looked over his shoulder, back to the scene of the accident. “Which is weird, considering Jon’s car is totalled and has a cracked windshield. I’m not an expert, but I’m pretty sure that’s not how accidents are supposed to go down.”

 

“It was possessed,” Linda said, turning around to look at the others. She wasn’t saying it as a question, and she was looking right at Spencer when she spoke. Like she knew, somehow, about what had happened with him and Asmodeus. There was something hard brewing in her eyes. Something dangerous. “The demon knows we’re onto it. We need to be more careful from here on out.”

 

“Got it,” Spencer said, nodding. Whatever the danger was in Linda’s eyes, it wasn’t directed at him or anyone else in the group. Linda was safe. Spencer was just being paranoid. He nodded at her, to let her know he understood, and said, “to start with, you need a real cast. You don’t want your arm to get more fucked up, and there’s only so much we can do out here. I know we all hate hospitals, but sometimes they’re a necessary evil.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment/kudos if you enjoyed, and feel free to come say hi to me on tumblr @throamspallon!


	6. Part six: Linda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally got around to another chapter of this guy. I promise I'm not abandoning any of the fics I'm working on, I've just got a lot of other stuff going on in my life. 
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy, and I'm sorry about the long ass wait.

_**Part six: Childress, Texas** _

_**June 1994.** _

_**(Linda)** _

 

Linda ended up with stitches on her face and a cast on her arm. They’d gotten into the possessed car after wiping the front seats of glass and continued north until they hit a town with a hospital and a hotel. Jon dropped Spencer and Linda off at the hospital and then turned around and took everyone to the Super 8 back on the other side of the town. 

 

“Now, make sure you don’t do a lot of strenuous activity. You don’t want those stitches to come loose and reopen the wound,” the doctor said. Linda knew he meant well, but she was in the business of fighting supernatural entities. Staying safe and not running around wasn’t an option. She smiled and nodded to make him happy anyway, and then greatfully signed her release papers to get out of there. 

 

The doctor looked at her with sympathy in her eyes. “You’re not in trouble, are you?”

 

“I’m not,” Linda said. “Don’t worry about me. I can handle myself.”

 

She headed over to where Spencer was being checked on, because she didn’t want him to be in here any longer than he had to be. She knew he didn’t trust her, or particularly like her, but that wasn’t Linda’s problem. She wasn’t trying to win the guy over; she was trying to keep him safe. She'd dealt with more irritating people before, and jr seemed like Spencer's only issue was that he didn't trust easily. That wasn't really an issue, and if he decided to stick around after they got rid of the demon, it would be an asset. 

 

Jon was too nice and trusting sometimes. He had a bit of a father complex, where he felt like he had to save everyone he met. Some people were dangerous, and some people didn't need saving. 

 

“You look like shit,” Spencer said, and pointed to his own face. “How's that feel?”

 

“Okay for now,” Linda said. “They numbed my face up for the stitches. It’ll probably be sore in a few hours, but Jon has painkillers in his bag so don’t worry about it. And if you need any, just ask him. He’s not afraid to share.”

 

Spencer nodded. Linda didn’t like how quiet he was. She and Ryan had talked a little while they’d cleared out the body back in Missouri, and so she knew where Spencer came from. He and Ryan were both criminals, but not the nasty kind. They wouldn’t try to take anything from her or Jon. If they did, all Linda had to do was call up the local police and tell them about the time Ryan murdered her dad. 

 

She didn’t want to do that, not to these two. They looked--and acted--like they’d never been treated humanely in their lives. 

 

“Do we call Jon now?” Spencer asked after a long moment of silence. Linda had been waiting for him to talk first. 

 

“Yeah,” she said. “Head out to the waiting room. I’ll be right behind you.”

 

Spencer grabbed some gauze packets and stuffed them into his pocket. Linda followed him out and grabbed a phone off the wall. She called the New Orleans number, and the guy on the other end gave her Jon’s number. They didn’t need operator numbers. They had each other.

 

Jon showed up about ten minutes later in a different car. It was a red Toyota minivan with one of the front headlights missing. It had an Oklahoma licence plate as well, and Linda didn’t question how Jon had gotten his hands on it or where he’d put the old car. It was good, because it didn’t belong to anyone, and so it wouldn’t get traced to anyone. 

 

They had one hotel room together for the night, with one large bed in the center of the room and a sofa against the window in the front. Ryan, Dallon, and Brendon were already in the bed, with Ryan in the center and the guys on either side of her. 

 

Jon closed the door behind the two of them. “I can take the couch, if you two want to figure out the bed situation.”

 

“I’ll take the couch,” Linda said. “I don’t want anyone to roll over onto me in the middle of the night.”

 

“Does it pull out?” Spencer asked. He walked over and lifted the cushions himself, but there was nothing under them. It was just a couch. 

 

Linda tapped her cast. “It’s fine. I’ve slept on the floor before.”

 

“There’re extra blankets, hold on,” Jon said. He came back with two, and tossed them onto the couch. Linda didn’t know how the other five would all end up fitting on the bed, but she wished them the best of luck. 

 

She sat down on the edge of the sofa and untied her boots with one hand. Being injured sucked. It meant she’d be pretty useless if Jon needed her, and she didn’t know enough about the other four to know if they’d be okay on their own. Ryan would probably be fine. She seemed tough. Linda wasn’t as worried about her as she was the boys. Boys were dumb, and they tended to overcompensate everything. They never knew when to ask for help. 

 

Jon pulled off his shirt and changed into a new one in the middle of the room. Linda wouldn’t have noticed it if Spencer hadn’t said anything, because she was so used to dressing and undressing around Jon that it didn’t phase her anymore. 

 

“Oh, should I--” Spencer said, half backing up into the bathroom. “Did you two need  privacy?”

 

“I’m sleeping in this,” Linda said, pointing to what she was wearing. “It’s easier than trying to work around the cast. And it’s not like Jon has anything you haven’t seen before.”

 

Spencer gave her a look. 

 

Linda toed her second boot off. “Being a guy and all, I mean.”

 

“Y’all are complicated,” Jon muttered. He picked up the corner of the duvet and dropped into the bed behind Brendon. Brendon scooted towards Ryan to give Jon a bit more room, and then it was just Spencer and Linda standing again. 

 

Linda raised an eyebrow. “Well? You gonna go to bed or what?”

 

“Right. Yeah, sorry,” Spencer muttered, and kicked his own shoes off before getting into the bed on the other side. 

 

Linda waited until he was laying down behind Dallon to get up and turn the lights off, and then she laid down as well. She didn’t go to sleep, because she wasn’t tired yet and she had a lot to think about. Asmodeus was out there, and it knew who they were and that they were coming for it. Linda didn’t get scared easily, but this thing worried her. Jon didn’t know what it wanted, and Linda didn’t know how to kill it. 

 

She turned her head towards the other five. She knew how to kill a demon in theory, because she and Billie had talked about it, but she’d never done it before. Demons weren’t as common as people liked to believe. Most “demonic possessions” were really just angry ghosts. Demons were big, and dangerous, and summoning one never ended well. 

 

Linda wasn’t sure what that woman had expected. She closed her eyes, thinking about the body. It had been ugly, with blood everywhere in the basement. Linda wasn’t sure if the murder had been reported yet, or how it had been reported, but she hoped that none of the neighbours had seen her or Jon. According to the government, Jon was a missing child and Linda had been kidnapped when she was eighteen. The world didn’t know where they were, and Linda liked it that way. She didn’t want to be famous, or have people call her a hero. She just wanted to keep people from fucking dying all the time. 

 

Something shuffled around in the background. Linda reached down between the couch cushions and wrapped her hand around her gun, ready to pull it out if she needed to. She and Jon didn’t run into a lot of trouble when they were working, but Linda liked to be prepared and after what had happened today, she was ready for anything. 

 

“You awake?” someone whispered. Linda didn’t move. 

 

A shadow appeared over her, and Linda whipped out her gun without thinking, pointing it towards the head. Two hands came up, and Linda squinted in the sudden light. “Holy shit, I’m sorry, I thought--”

 

“Dallon?” Linda hissed, slowly drawing her gun down. 

 

“Sorry,” he said, and closed his hands. So they were still glowing then. 

 

“No, I’m sorry for pointing a gun at you,” She whispered, and put it back. She sat up, glancing at the bed again. No one else had moved. “What’s up?”

 

“I need to ask you something,” He said. He curled his hands into fists so that the light was only leaking through his fingers. “Can we… can we step outside for a moment?”

 

“Let me leave a note for Jon in case he wakes up,” she said. She and Jon both had messed up sleep schedules. Some of it was trauma, and some of it was their lifestyle. Ghosts didn’t keep normal hours. 

 

Linda put her shoes back on and grabbed the hotel key and her gun before following Dallon outside. They didn’t go far. Dallon leaned against the railing of the motel building, looking out at the street. No one was out here aside from the two of them. 

 

“What did you need to ask?” Linda said. She could feel the numbing medication starting to wear off on her face, and regretted not grabbing an Aspirin before she went to sleep. 

 

“I know demons are real… I mean, it’s kinda hard to deny them at this point… but what about angels?” Dallon said. He opened his hands again, light spilling out from his palms. It hadn’t spread, but it hadn’t died down much and Dallon had been wearing gloves to cover it up. He turned his hands around. “Are they real? Have you ever met one?”

 

“I thought you were supposed to be the devout one,” Linda said. 

 

“I am,” he said back. He looked at Linda, and for a moment she felt like there was something else inside of him. Something not entirely human. The moment passed, and Dallon closed his hands again. “I believe in God, and the Bible and all that, but… I don’t know. There are some interpretations that say demons are real creatures, and some that say they aren’t. Same with angels. I figured, since you and Jon have seen a lot, you might know.”

 

“I’ve never seen an angel,” Linda said. She tried to cross her arms before realising that the cast made it nearly impossible to do so. “That doesn’t mean they can’t be real. I mean, this thing is the first real demon I’ve seen, and I’ve only been hunting spirits for a few years. Maybe we haven’t done anything to warrant an angel showing up.”

 

Dallon nodded. He looked down at his hands. He had a nice profile, and he was a good looking guy. He’d look better with longer hair, though. The Mormon chop wasn’t doing him any favours. 

 

Linda narrowed her eyes. “Do you want to meet an angel?”

 

“Absolutely not. I’d probably lose my shit if I did,” Dallon said. He laughed nervously. Everything seemed too still out here. It was like the entire town had died aside from the six of them. “They’re supposed to be huge, and on fire, and have like, six wings. I thought the demon was freaky enough.”

 

“Yeah, I never heard of an angel being described like that,” Linda said. “It explains why they were always talking about don’t be afraid and all that shit.”

 

“Your dad didn’t preach about angels?”

 

“Nah,” Linda said. She’d forgotten that both of them had fathers in the pulpit. Linda hadn’t seen her father in years, so she had no idea if he was still in the church. He could have moved to New York by now and she wouldn’t have known. “He was more the fire and brimstone type. He thought I was going to go to hell if I went to college.”

 

“You should get a doctorate, then,” Dallon said, a grin curling across his face. He turned toward her, leaning his hip against the railing now. “I’m assuming the hell thing was because you’re a woman and women aren’t supposed to think outside the home?”

 

“Exactly that,” Linda said. She rolled her eyes. “It was annoying. I was a smart kid in school, too. I was going to go to college, but then Jon happened. I’m happy here, though. Don’t get me wrong. I just wish there was a way to do both.”

 

“There’re colleges in New Orleans,” Dallon said. “And, I didn’t get to talk to Adrienne much but I don’t think she’d mind having you around to keep the guys in check.”

 

“I’d get cabin fever,” Linda said. Two years ago, she’d broken her leg badly while chasing down a werewolf pack in Arkansas, and she’d been forced to stay at the base for over two months while she recovered. It had been the longest two months of her life, even when Adrienne and Billie let her work with them. She pressed her fingers to her cheek. “Turns out I liked the taste of freedom a little too much for my own good. And I don’t need a college degree, or to prove anything to my dad.”

 

“You’re right,” Dallon said. He sighed. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do when this is all over, to be honest. At least you found your calling before you spent thousands of dollars on a degree that won’t do shit for you.”

 

“What’d you major in?”

 

“Music,” Dallon said. “And English. I like them, but I don’t know who’d hire me. I don’t have any experience, and I doubt I could put this on my resume.”

 

“You never know,” Linda said. She didn’t mention how they needed more translators. Just because Dallon had majored in English didn’t mean he was great with languages. English and Linguistics were two very different things, and Linda didn’t need a fancy piece of paper to know that. 

 

* * *

 

Linda and Dallon ended up sleeping together on the floor, because when they’d returned to the motel room, the other four had spread out too far on the bed for Dallon to get back in. 

 

The floor was surprisingly comfortable, but Jon still laughed at them when he saw them in the morning. 

 

Linda flipped him off, still half under the blankets. “You’re the asshole who used up all the bed space. Don’t laugh at us.”

 

“You had an entire fucking couch,” Jon said. 

 

“I wasn’t going to make him sleep on the floor alone,” Linda argued. Dallon pointed to her, silently saying he agreed with her comment, and that he wasn’t going to kick Linda off the couch either. 

 

Jon rolled his eyes. “All of you guys are complicated. Seriously.”

 

“I’m not complicated,” Ryan said. She was half under Brendon, and the two looked like they were spooning for their lives. 

 

Spencer was sitting up beside her, not at all upset that his friend was cuddling another guy. He raised an eyebrow. “You’re incredibly complicated. Don’t lie.”

 

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Ryan said. She rolled away from Brendon and onto her back. Her hair was curlier now than it had been the night before, and it was messy from sleep. She had a very pretty face. Linda knew she’d been born a guy, but the longer she looked at Ryan, the harder it was for her to see it. Ryan flicked Brendon’s forehead. “Hey. Wake up. We should probably get moving.”

 

“Can I shower?” Brendon asked. He looked over his shoulder at Jon, who shrugged and nodded. There was no reason why Brendon couldn’t shower, or why any of them couldn’t. Now that Brendon had put the thought into her mind, Linda had realised how much she needed one of her own. She hadn’t cleaned herself since she’d left New Orleans, and she could feel the grime on her skin. 

 

All six of then ended up showering, with Linda as the last one because she had a broken arm and she didn’t want to waste all the warm water while trying to figure out how to shower. 

 

The bathroom was tiny, with the toilet and sink staring each other down and the shower tub taking up then entire back wall. Linda stripped down to her underwear after locking the door, and turned on the water. She stuck her hand under it a few times, but it didn’t get warmer and Linda didn’t want to stick around and wait. She’d taken cold showers before. They sucked, but they were better than nothing. She took off her bra and underwear and grabbed the little shampoo bottle from the sink. 

 

It was a quick shower, and she got out of it shivering. Linda dressed quickly and took two Aspirin to cover the pain in her face. She tossed her old clothes into her bag and pulled her hair back into a tight ponytail. “Alright. Let’s grab food and get out of here.”

 

“Drive through?” Jon offered. “I’ll do the first length.”

 

“Works for me,” Linda said. No one else argued, and so they all headed out to the car and packed it back up. Jon had already transferred all his materials into the trunk, which was a lot bigger than the last car. Linda tossed her bag into the trunk before closing it and turning to Jon. “You know, maybe the accident wasn’t the worst thing to happen to us. I like this car. It’s bigger.”

 

“Yeah, we could probably sleep in it if we needed to,” Jon said. He tossed the keys in the air and caught them. “I got this guy for free, too. Turns out the old owner had a cat obsession and the junkyard man couldn’t get the smell of cat piss out.”

 

Linda scrunched her nose up. “We’re in a cat mobile?”

 

“Nah,” Jon said. “I used a cleansing spell on it.”

 

“I didn’t think that was how cleansing spells worked,” Linda said. She leaned towards the van and sniffed it. It smelled like candles, not cat piss. 

 

“I didn’t think so either,” Jon said. “But I’ll take whatever weird luck I can get.”

 

He clapped Linda on the shoulder. “Come on, Ignarro. Time to go kill a fucking demon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment/kudos if you enjoyed, and feel free to come say hi to me on tumblr @throamspallon!


	7. Spencer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, sometimes I post shit after midnight. I don't give a fuck about timezones, apparently. 
> 
> Anyway, sorry this took forever. Shit's going to get very weird and interesting in the next chapter, and I'm excited for it so hopefully it'll be out soon(ish)! Enjoy!

_**Part seven: Albuquerque, New Mexico** _

_**June 1994.** _

_**(Spencer)** _

New Mexico was fucking hot. Spencer felt like he was going to pass out, but he didn’t mention it to anyone. The minivan didn’t have any air-conditioning, which no one had noticed at night or in the morning when they’d left Texas, but now it was unbearable. 

 

“I’m going to fucking die,” Jon grumbled, and dumped a bottle of water over his head. He handed a second one to Spencer. “New Orleans at least had the decency to rain sometimes. I don’t think this city would know what rain looked like.”

 

“Thanks,” Spencer said, and drank from his water bottle instead. He and Jon still hadn’t talked about the kiss, and Spencer was beginning to think that it would never happen. That was okay with him, because there were certain things in life that were never meant to be. Spencer had Ryan, and the two of them had her dad’s truck. They could leave and explore the country whenever they wanted, and they didn’t need anyone else with them. 

 

“I’m sorry about what happened,” Jon said. “With the car. I shouldn’t… you guys aren’t supposed to get hurt. Linda and I are supposed to be protecting you, and I didn’t and that’s on me.”

 

“I’m not holding it against you,” Spencer said, because he wasn’t. He looked down at the bottle of water and then out across the gas station parking lot. The other four were inside, enjoying the air conditioning. Spencer was sure that Ryan and Linda were plotting a way to steal someone else’s car. 

 

He swallowed. “So. What are we?”

 

“Ghost hunters,” Jon said. 

 

Spencer glared at him. “That’s not what I meant.”

 

“It’s not?” Jon asked. He looked confused, and then a flash of understanding crossed his face. “Oh, you meant the kiss.”

 

Spencer nodded. 

 

“Well,” Jon said. “I guess we can be whatever you want us to be. I think you’re interesting, but this isn’t the easiest job to keep a relationship in. It’s dangerous, and I don’t want you to get hurt, or for me to hurt you.”

 

“I have thick skin,” Spencer said. “I think I’ll be okay.”

 

Jon looked at Spencer. They were hunting down a demon. There was a high chance that at least one of them would die. They’d already been in a supernatural car accident, and Linda had gotten out with a broken arm. Spencer was trying not to think about what the other’s had said about him, and how he hadn’t had a pulse for a minute after the crash. 

 

Spencer drank from his water. “I mean it. I figured out a long time ago that life is short and we don’t get a lot of second chances. If we don’t make it out, we don’t make it out. I’d rather risk it than not.”

 

Jon frowned. “And what about Ryan?”

 

“Ryan’s special,” Spencer said. “We’ve never had to promise anything to each other. We’re not like that.”

 

“Do you want to be like that?” Jon asked. “With her or with anyone?”

 

Did Spencer want to be intimate and in love? Maybe. One day, when he wasn’t on the run and he didn’t feel like someone was choking him and holding him down, he’d like to be in love and be loved by someone. He didn’t see himself ever settling down with a spouse and two kids in the suburbs, but he wanted something out of life. 

 

He shook his head. “No. Not now, at least.”

 

“Okay,” Jon said. “I can work with that.”

 

“Can I kiss you?” Spencer asked. There were people around, but no one was looking at him and Jon, and if things went wrong, their friends were inside. This wasn’t a middle school cafeteria or a closet in a church. Spencer had support. He had backup, and if the backup wasn’t enough there were also weapons in the trunk of the minivan. 

 

“Now?” Jon raised his eyebrows. 

 

“Yeah,” Spencer said. 

 

Jon nodded, and then leaned up on his toes and quickly kissed Spencer. Spencer didn’t let it linger, because they  _ were _ in public. Being gay in public was dangerous. Spencer knew that Jon could handle everything, but he didn’t want to make Jon handle this. 

 

Spencer swallowed. “Okay.”

 

Jon laughed. “God, you’re something else. Are you like this with Ryan, too?”

 

“No, because Ryan doesn’t agree to do stupid shit in public with me,” Spencer said, rolling his eyes. He felt good, though. Free, almost. He knew he couldn’t be free and gay, because the world didn’t allow that, but this was close enough. 

 

* * *

 

“Are we still in New Mexico?” Dallon asked. He looked worried. The sun had gone down and the windows were still rolled down. Brendon was driving, Jon was in the front seat, and the other four were scattered across the back rows of the van. 

 

Jon pulled the map out and wiggled his hand into the backseat so that someone could give him a flashlight. Ryan did, and then settled back in under Dallon’s arm. Spencer didn’t know when the two of them had bonded, but Linda was on the other side of Dallon and she was covering and uncovering his hands to let the light out. 

 

“We should be in Arizona soon,” Jon said. He leaned over and looked at the speedometer. “Just keep at it, Brendon, you’re doing great.”

 

“Thanks,” Brendon said. He looked back at Dallon through the rearview mirror. “I didn’t realise Dallon was such a backseat driver.”

 

Dallon rolled his eyes. His hands were still glowing. Spencer didn’t like it. He wasn’t too bothered by the actual glowing, but by how long it had carried on for. People didn’t glow. Dallon had only started to glow after he poured holy water on his hands, and even though Spencer didn’t believe in God, he knew that magic worked. Whatever was in the holy water was affecting Dallon, and that scared Spencer. 

 

He let out a sigh. Ryan tapped her foot against Spencer’s leg and made a face at him. Spencer shook his head. He wanted to talk about it, but he didn’t know how to. He didn't have answers for any of the questions that people wanted to ask. 

 

They kept driving. Sometimes there was conversation, and sometimes they were quiet. Spencer tried not to fall asleep, even though he knew he needed to. He was afraid of what he’d see in his dreams. He hadn’t had any last night, but he’d been too exhausted to make sense of anything then. 

 

Dallon was watching him. Jon and the girls were passed out. Dallon narrowed his eyes. “Go to sleep, Spence. I’ll take the leg after Brendon.”

 

“I can’t,” Spencer said. He felt exhausted, but also jittery. He was waiting for the second shoe to drop, but he wasn’t what the first shoe had been. There was Dallon and his holy glowing hands, and then there was the freak accident, and then his vision with Asmodeus that he hadn’t told anyone about. 

 

Dallon leaned forward carefully, and unfolded his palm. 

 

Spencer frowned and leaned away. “What… what are you doing?”

 

“It helps, I promise,” Dallon said. Spencer leaned back in and squinted against the brightness. Dallon pressed his palm flat across Spencer’s face. His hand was warm, like wrapping a blanket around his shoulders in the coldest part of winter. Spencer felt his muscles relax, and when Dallon pulled his hand back, Spencer slumped down against the seat and fell asleep.

 

When he woke up, he freaked out. Dallon was asleep, though, and Ryan was driving this time, so Spencer couldn’t ask Dallon about the magic hand trick. 

 

Ryan raised her eyebrow. “Bad dream?”

 

“Dallon has magic hands,” Spencer blurted out. 

 

Ryan nodded. “I know. He did the thing to Linda and I last night. It’s nice.”

 

“It’s  _ weird _ ,” Spencer said. He frowned. “Don’t tell me you’re okay with this. People shouldn’t be able to put other people to bed.”

 

“It’s better than a haunted truck trying to kill us,” Ryan said. She had a good point. Spencer had almost forgotten about that. Ryan’s dad’s ghost trying to kill them wasn’t as terrifying as a demon. Spencer wished they could go back to that, because at least Ryan’s dad was easy to get rid of. He was stressful, but he was an easy battle to win. 

 

Spencer looked out the window. They were still in the desert. There was a lot of desert out west, apparently. “How long have you been driving?”

 

“Two hours,” Ryan said. She frowned. “Why?”

 

“Shouldn’t we have hit Flagstaff by now?” Spencer asked. He remembered JOn and Linda saying something about stopping in Flagstaff to talk to their ghost hunting contacts there. 

 

Ryan frowned harder. Spencer noticed her tighten her grip on the steering wheel, and how her eyes started to dart around. She was looking for an exit. She knew something was wrong, too. Spencer leaned forward and put his hand on her shoulder, and squeezed it gently. Just because he’d established something with Jon didn’t mean he’d abandon Ryan. The two of them were eternal. Nothing would ever come between their friendship. 

 

“There should be an exit, right?” Ryan said. Her voice shook. “I’m not pulling off in the middle of nowhere. I don’t trust the universe like that.”

 

“Keep going,” Spencer said. “We’ll be okay.”

 

Ryan took a deep breath. “I should have noticed sooner. We haven’t had to pull over for gas yet.”

 

Spencer looked over her shoulder to see that the tank was halfway between full and empty. Dallon hadn’t pulled over to get gas, and neither had Brendon. Something was definitely off. 

 

An exit showed up about ten minutes later, and Ryan barrelled off of it. There was a building labelled  _ Rest Area _ and Ryan drove straight up to that before parking in front of a gas pump and turning the car off. She pulled the key out, unbuckled her seat belt, and turned around to Spencer. “Wake everyone up. We should get out of the car.”

 

Spencer nodded, and leaned over to shake Brendon. He woke up easily enough, and woke Dallon and Linda up while Ryan got Jon to wake up. 

 

Brendon rubbed his face. “Are we there?”

 

“I thought we were stopping in Flagstaff,” Linda said. She looked around and frowned. “This isn’t Flagstaff.”

 

“Something’s wrong,” Ryan said. “We need to get out of the car and get inside. Now.”

 

There was no hesitation. The six of them grabbed the bare necessities (weapons, Jon’s backpack, the money) and headed into the building. There was an elderly lady sitting behind the welcome desk, and she smiled up at the six of them. 

 

“Hello there,” she said. She sounded awfully chipper. “Anything I can help you folks out with?”

 

“Where are we?” Jon asked. He looked calm. Spencer was sure he wasn’t. He approached the desk the way someone would approach a McDonald’s counter, with one hand on his backpack strap and the other loosely by his side. “My friends and I are on a roadtrip, and we’re trying to get to the west coast, but I think we took a wrong turn.”

 

“You’re on the right track,” she said, still smiling. “I assume you’re coming from the east?”

 

“New Orleans, specifically,” Jon said. There was a southern undertone to his voice, and Spencer could tell he was doing that on purpose. He leaned against the counter, keeping his backpack away from the woman, and fiddled with a brochure. “We just finished college, figured this would be a fun way to memorialise our final days of freedom.”

 

“Oh, that’s exciting,” the woman said. She folded her hands and leaned forward. “Well, you’re just past the New Mexico border, and we’re a little wide spot in the road called Lupton.”

 

Spencer froze. They were at the border. Albuquerque was about two-thirds of the way through New Mexico, and it had taken them four hours to get from the other border to Albuquerque. They should have been in Vegas by now. Something was very, very wrong. 

 

Jon still looked unphased. He nodded slowly. “This might be an odd question, but have you had anyone else come in here, asking about travel times to the west coast?”

 

“I did, a few weeks ago,” she said. “Rugged, handsome looking man, travelling with a lady and a tall, gangly fellow. He spoke Spanish, and we talked in our native tongue for a little bit before he and his friends left.”

 

Jon looked over his shoulder and mouthed, “Gabe?” at Linda. She nodded. Jon frowned and then turned back to the woman. “Did they tell you what they were doing, or their names?”

 

“Do you know these people?” the lady asked. She looked concerned. 

 

Jon nodded. “Maybe. The rugged, handsome guy sounds a bit like a friend of ours who we haven’t seen in a while. He and some of his friends wanted to go visit Las Vegas.”

 

“That’s where they said they were headed to,” the lady said. “But that they wanted to start a band, not take a vacation. Maybe your friend got famous and forgot about you.”

 

Her expression dropped into something serious. “Or maybe one of the vices of Vegas got to them.”

 

“Shit,” Jon whispered. He looked back at the others. “Is there… do you know if there’s anywhere we could get a rental car? Our van’s been acting up recently, and we don’t want to break down on the side of the highway.”

 

“I can take you guys over to the nearest rental shop,” the lady said. She grabbed her keys and explained that she owned the rest stop. If she wanted to close it in the middle of the day, she could, because the gas pumps and vending machines were automatic, and the bathrooms were cleaned at night anyway. 

 

The closest town was a place called Sanders, and they didn’t have a rental place but they did have a single car salesman who was willing to rent out one of his vans to Jon. Jon took the cash and signed a bunch of things, saying he’d bring the van back in one piece and he’d cover any damages that occurred on the road. 

 

Spencer still felt weird about the whole thing. He stepped outside while Jon was looking over the forms, and Dallon followed him out. 

 

Spencer whirled around. “What do you want?”

 

“You looked tense,” Dallon said. 

 

Spencer looked down at his hands and then back up at his face. “I don’t want whatever weird magic you’ve got going on. I don’t trust that.”

 

“I don’t think it’s magic,” Dallon said. 

 

Spencer glared at him. “Don’t tell me you think it’s a miracle. If God was real, he definitely wouldn’t be throwing miracles at people like us. You’re cursed at worst and lucky at best.”

 

“Why are you so cynical about everything?” Dallon snapped back. He was taller than Spencer, and Spencer hadn’t picked up on that until now. He was taller, and he had magic healing hands, and Spencer wasn’t sure what to do with that information. Dallon’s fists were clenched, but Spencer could see the light leaking out. “At least Ryan has an excuse. She told me about her dad; she’s allowed to be wary of people. But you? You don’t have one.”

 

“Yes I do,” Spencer hissed. 

 

“Don’t tell me being gay is your excuse for treating everyone but Ryan like shit,” Dallon snapped. “Because guess what? We’re all in the same boat there, and if you’d pull your head out of your ass, you’d realise that.”

 

Spencer deflated for a moment. Okay, so he didn’t need to protect Ryan from the others. They trusted her, and they valued her, and she’d be okay with them if Spencer died. 

 

Dallon did not deflate. “What is it, Spencer? Because if the six of us are going to make it out of this alive, you need to be honest. If we hide from each other, it’s going to use that against us.”

 

“I’m not--” Spencer started, and then stopped himself. Fine. If Dallon wanted brutal honesty, Spencer would give him that. He yanked his sleeve up and turned his arm over so that Dallon could see all the scars. Spencer glared at him. “That’s only half of it. That’s what happens when you throw your fucking kid into a conversion camp and tell him to get the fag out of his system if he ever wants to come home again.”

 

“Shit,” Dallon said. He uncurled a fist and gently touched one of Spencer’s scars with his fingertip. No palm, no healing. Dallon seemed to get that healing the scars wouldn’t fix Spencer. 

 

Spencer pulled his sleeve back down before Dallon could change his mind. “So forgive me for not wanting to share sleepover stories with you guys.”

 

Dallon was still looking at Spencer’s arm. Spencer remembered why he hated telling people about that. 

 

Spencer wanted to cry, but he wouldn’t, because he wasn’t a kid any more and he knew that crying solved nothing. He took a deep breath and swallowed the tears back down. “Anything else you want to know about me, or are we done here?”

 

“I didn’t mean--I’m sorry,” Dallon said. He’d finally looked up from Spencer’s arm. He looked like a kicked puppy. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

 

Spencer nodded. He didn’t have a good response to that. He wanted to be alone, or with Ryan only. He didn’t like being exposed and open and honest like this, and it made him feel like running away. He wondered if he could convince Ryan to steal the minivan and take it in the other direction. They didn’t need to stay here, or fight this demon. It wasn’t their problem. 

 

Dallon put their hand on Spencer’s shoulder, high enough that he wouldn’t touch any of Spencer’s scars through the fabric. “Don’t run. I’m not going to tell anyone, okay? And I shouldn’t have pushed you to tell me, either. That was… that was my fault.”

 

“I thought you said we needed to be honest,” Spencer said. 

 

“I did, and I mean that, but honesty comes with trust, and trust has to be earned,” Dallon said. He was five years older than Spencer. Spencer wondered how much of a difference those years made. “I haven’t earned yours yet, and that’s okay. I can’t force you to be anything other than who you are.”

 

“Why’d Ryan tell you?” Spencer asked. 

 

“She didn’t want me, or any of the others, to think that you were a criminal,” Dallon said. He shook his head. “Not that she’s a criminal either, but she wanted to make sure we knew you had nothing to do with her father’s death. She cares about you, but you two both need to stop taking metaphorical bullets for each other. That’s not healthy.”

 

_ That’s all we know _ , Spencer thought. He didn’t say that, though. Dallon had learned enough about him, and he wasn’t going to give Dallon anything else to pity him about. He walked back into the little shed instead, and stood behind Ryan. Ryan was safe, and she knew better than to ask questions she didn’t want to know the answer to. 

 

She reached around and held Spencer’s hand for a moment. Ryan was good like that. She and Spencer knew each other. They didn’t need to hide things from each other. 

 

“Well, we’re all good!” the dealer said. He shook Jon’s hand and then handed him the keys. “I hope you and your friends have a fun trip!”

 

“Thanks,” Jon said, smiling. “We’re hoping it’ll be an adventure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment/kudos if you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment/kudos if you enjoyed!
> 
> Also: I'm going to be in France for like... all of July, so I might not respond immediately but you can say hi on tumblr (@wsyict)!


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